Ghosts of Me
by Theyumenoinu
Summary: (AU/MirrorVerse/TOS) "I don't believe in no-win scenarios." "Ah. Your lack of ability to accept your fate astounds me. However, I have captured you." A small smirk twitched at the side of his mouth. "You belong to me." Kirk/Spock Slash with a little Kirk/McCoy slash. (Full summary and warnings inside)
1. Chapter One: Not In Kansas Anymore

**Summary: (AU/MirrorVerse/TOS)**

"**I don't believe in no-win scenarios." **

"**Ah. Your lack of ability to accept your fate astounds me. However, I **_**have**_** captured you." A small smirk twitched at the side of his mouth. "You belong to me."**

**Jim had believed in the elder Vulcan, that he'd be transported back onto the **_**Enterprise.**_** This wasn't the **_**Enterprise**_**, not **_**his**_** or any he recognized. The man who stood over him was older, wiser, and crueler…much crueler. **

**What happens when young Jim is beamed from Delta Vega into Spock Prime's mirrorverse? Can Jim find his way home?**

**WARNING: Graphic violence, light references to rape/child abuse, language, spoilers.**

**Pairing: Kirk/Spock (Slash and Pre-slash) and implied McCoy/Kirk (in mirrorverse)  
**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Star Trek franchise or its characters. **

**A/N: I have changed certain aspects of the movies and the show and made some of it my own. I appreciate ALL reviews, follows, and favorites. Thank you for reading!**

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**Ghosts of Me  
**

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**Chapter One: Not In Kansas Anymore**

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Jim darted swiftly around the corner, the knife he had managed to rip from the grip of the Ensign in the transporter room clutched so tightly in his hand; his knuckles turned a pale white and ached from the tension. Once he had rematerialized, two men jumped him, attempting to injure him or worse. If he hadn't been involved with copious amounts of bar fights, he probably wouldn't be standing here now, alive. He rubbed the throbbing in his side absentmindedly, fingers coming away with fresh, sticky blood from the stab wound the Ensign had inflicted. _Shit_, it was worse than he'd originally thought.

The ship was familiar, but it wasn't the _Enterprise_. No, definitely not. But there was no time to think about it, he had to keep moving. The Scotsman was nowhere to be found, had he been beamed onto another part of the ship? Jim frantically scurried through the corridors, ducking behind doors when he'd catch movement. There were no alarms, no chaos. Apparently, no one had been alerted to his presence yet.

His mind reeled, attempting to calculate any kind of plan, scenario, _something_ to help him but nothing came to mind. He was in unfamiliar territory without backup, what could he do? Commandeer the ship? Jim was only one man and he was pretty confident the attempt wouldn't be anything but futile. So what was he supposed to do? He could attempt to beam out, but he didn't know the formula for the Scot's trans-warp theory, hell he wouldn't even know the right coordinates to punch in. He was a sitting goose that was already cooked.

What had happened? The old Vulcan said the beam would work. How did he end up here?

"_You're coming with us, right?" Jim asked tentatively. He felt uneasy leaving the old man behind in the frozen tundra. Vulcan's didn't tolerate the cold as well as Humans; at least that's what he learned in his Xenology class back at the Academy…well sort of. Jim didn't really read much, but he'd overheard something about it. Still, this man claiming to be Spock, only an elder version from another time, seemed to be his only saving grace from the hell he called his life. This Vulcan who looked at him with such staggering admiration, gentleness he couldn't place disoriented him. He'd never seen anyone gaze at him that way. _

"_No, Jim. I'm not. That is not my destiny."_

_Jim gawked at him. _

"_Y-your desti—?" He let out a breathy laugh. Didn't he realize what was happening? "He—the other Spock isn't going to believe me. Only you can explain h—"_

"_Under no circumstances can he be made aware of my existence, you must promise me this. You alone must take command of your ship." _

_He had to be kidding._

"_How? Over your dead body?" Jim was skeptical that he'd ever accomplish such a feat. Spock was cold and calculating, he threw Jim out an airlock for God's sake!_

_The elder was clever, precisely phrasing his words, giving Jim such a beautiful scenario he was almost confident. Almost. As he strode to the transporter pad, a small amount of uncertainty and fear crept up his spine. He'd experienced the same sinking feeling when he nearly drove his step-father's convertible off the cliff into the ravine below, the feeling that perhaps he really shouldn't be doing this. An impending doom lurking on the horizon and as the familiar white lights encircled him and he realized he no longer had a choice, he had to trust him._

Heavy footfalls of boots echoed from up ahead snapping him out of the memory. Quickly ducking around an open doorway, he scrutinized the clear chamber in front of him before crouching low behind it. They were talking loudly, but he couldn't quite catch the words until they were within a closer proximity to his hiding place, stopping abruptly just a few feet shy of the entryway. The shadows of the men displayed against the bulkheads outside the room.

"Why didn't you stop the process?" The man barked.

"Sir, forgive me, I tried! I couldn't interrupt the signal enough, I—"

"I don't want to hear your damn excuses, you allowed the intruder aboard!" The same man growled. "Some time in the 'booth' should prove you to be more proficient in your duties."

"No! Plea—"

"Captain, I will see to the discipline and I assume you prefer full duration?" The calm, calculating voice sent chills down Jim's spine. He recognized it, though the tone was a bit deeper, he knew who owned the voice.

"Yes." The voice cooed darkly, "Have you always possessed the ability to anticipate my whim, Mr. Spock?"

"Indeed, Captain. Your methods are most promising and I intend to uphold your current success."

"Alright but afterwards I want you to find the intruder. I want to know how he came aboard and why he's here by any means necessary."

"It shall be done."

There were shouts of protest as the footfalls resumed, rounding the corner into the entryway. Jim crouched closer to the floor and cringed at the patches of dried blood below him, several years old he deduced before fighting back the urge to gasp as spike of sharp pain shot from his side. His heart hammered in his chest and he attempted to even his breaths to a softer rhythm. He peered around the metal base of the chamber as they entered. The Ensign who had effectively inflicted the wound embedded in his side was now struggling against the iron grip of the Vulcan. Spock was older, his face deadpanned, sporting a goatee and Jim had to stifle the giggle from the sight of it. His uniform was different, silky and a much lighter hue than the blue of the uniform the Spock he knew owned.

Trailing after them was another older man; his uniform was made of the same elements of the Vulcan's, but a dark gold. A heinous smirk was plastered on his face, eyes twinkling with nefarious gratification. Jim was taken aback; the man's appearance was eerily similar to his, right down to the way the man parted his blond hair.

Spock shoved the man into the chamber, keying in a code and the chamber hissed and beeped as it locked shut. The Vulcan pressed a button before stepping back as the chamber erupted in a series of flashes of electricity and others forms of energy that Jim could not recognize. A shrill, primeval and desperate ripped from the man's lips, his form crumpling against the glass, forced to stand with no maneuvering room. His skin heated to a bright red, eyes squeezed shut, blood spilling from his nostrils, ears, and the sides of his mouth.

A sinister laugh cut through the cries and Jim's attention returned to that of the "Captain". He smiled fiendishly, his arms crossing, staring at the helpless man with glee. Jim felt his blood run cold, his stomach twisting. The Ensign may have maimed him, but the man didn't deserve torture, not at the hands of this madman. He couldn't sit idly by and watch this, regardless if he could stay hidden or not, they'd find him eventually. He had to act, do something, _anything_!

Inhaling a deep breath, he leapt from the safety of his hiding place, startling the two men enough to allow him to plunge the knife into the keypad. Sparks flew and a loud whine pierced the air as the contraption sizzled, the flashes inside the chamber died and the Ensign slumped against the glass, unconscious.

He didn't have much time to survey the Ensign's condition as a fist collided with the side of his head, bright spots invading his vision as he careened sideways onto the floor with a loud thud. His elbow broke his fall, twisting at an odd angle with a sickening snap, ripping a scream from him. Hands balled into the fabric of his coat, hoisting him up to his feet, slamming him hard against the wall, his skull cracking against the metal, tears stinging his eyes. The world went vertigo, struggling to focus on the face inches from his.

"Who are you?" The Captain demanded as his face swam in Jim's vision.

"Jim Kirk." He mumbled, pain wracking his body, his head throbbing immensely.

A sudden pain stung his cheek as he was punched, a copper taste filling his mouth.

"You will _not_ mock me, who are you?" He demanded again.

Jim turned his head and spat the crimson liquid from his mouth.

"I told you, I'm Jim Kirk." He groused.

The man glared, a dark emotion spilling into amber eyes.

"Mr. Spock." The man's eyes darted away to the Vulcan and jerked his head slightly.

"Yes, Captain."

The Vulcan strode into view, a hand reaching out towards Jim's neck. Jim's eyes widened, recognizing the same motion that had left him stranded on Delta Vega and he struggled against the grip that pinned him but to no avail. The heated pads of Spock's fingers pressed against him, he felt the world rush upwards before he was sucked under into unconsciousness.

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He steadily drifted towards consciousness, lazily reaching for the surface. Voices floated above him, distant.

"He…he looks _just_ likehim!"

"I am aware, Doctor. When will he be accessible to interrogation?"

There was a long pause.

"You…can't be serious? He's a child!"

"Age is irrelevant. He is a prisoner of the Empire and thus it is imperative he undergoes a series of questioning pertaining to his unauthorized intrusion aboard this vessel."

Jim flooded back into his solid body, a wave of unbearable pain slamming into him. He stifled a whimper, biting down onto his lower lip as he rode through it. His head pounded, nausea burned up his throat, body aching from the impact with the wall. As another wave of pain pushed him further into consciousness, he moaned softly and mentally kicked himself for showing weakness. Something was pressing against his chest, making it difficult to breathe and he struggled against it, sending bright sparks through his vision.

"Easy." A voice with a southern drawl soothed as a hand pressed against his shoulder. "Easy, kid."

"Bones?" Jim blinked up at him hopeful then frowned. An older man scowled down at him with cerulean eyes, hair receding, a scar decorating his right cheek. He glanced down at the straps across his chest, acknowledging they were the source of the pressure before returning his gaze to the doctor.

The man raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Yeah." He said tentatively. "I've been called that before..." The doctor eyes scanned his face, searching for something. "What's your name, kid?"

Jim glanced hesitantly over to the Vulcan who stood quietly, observing.

"Jim. Jim Kirk." He breathed.

McCoy's eyebrows shot up, eyes widening.

"What?" He whispered, glancing up to Spock quickly before returning to Jim's face. "Are you his son?"

"No. I'm the only James T. Kirk." He furrowed his eyebrows at the man. Why didn't anyone believe that was his name? "Bones…where am I? Why are you…old?" He felt a rush through his body as he panicked; he was confused, what the hell was going on? The blips from the heart monitor began to increase, growing louder with the intensity.

"Whoa, Kid-uh-Jim, calm down!" Bones exclaimed, grabbing a hypospray beside the bed and injecting it quickly into Jim's arm and Jim hissed at the pain.

"Fuck! Dammit!" Jim cried out, his body jerking. He didn't know which was worse, his neck or his arm, either way he was sick of being stuck with these damn things.

"What's going on here?" A voice asked softly from the door, a small smile twitching at his mouth.

Bones straightened himself immediately, his fist reaching for his chest before reaching it out, hand flat. Spock copied the motion, more smoothly than the doctor had.

"At ease." He smirked as he glanced around the room before striding to the biobed, glaring down at Jim, the nefarious gleam in his eyes. "Have we discovered the identity of the intruder?" He asked without glancing away from Jim and he narrowed his eyes at the older man.

Bones made a noise as though he was about to answer but Jim beat him to it.

"For the last time, I'm Jim Kirk. Who the hell are you?" He growled.

The man's eyebrows lifted, amused.

"I am James T. Kirk, _Captain_ of the _ISS Enterprise_." His hand reached down, gripping Jim's chin tight enough to bruise, bending down until he was inches away from his face. "And I don't _tolerate _imposters."

Jim's eyes widened. This man…was him? Was this the future? Is this where the elder Spock had come from? The Captain roughly released his jaw, forcing the throbbing in his head to peak for a moment, tears stinging his eyes for the second time, he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Besides, you aren't very good." The Captain continued, "I would never allow myself to be captured so easily." His voice oozed amusement. "I should advise you there is no escape from my ship, unless I _allow_ it." He grinned devilishly, sending chills down Jim's spine. He decided he didn't need to know what he meant by that.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios, you haven't captured me, not entirely. I'll find a way." He said flatly, attempting to seize him up with his eyes.

The captain let out a breathy laugh.

"Ah. Your lack of ability to accept your fate astounds me. However, I _have_ captured you." A small smirk twitched at the side of his mouth. "You belong to me."

Jim swallowed hard, averting his eyes away from him to Bones who stared down at him in silent horror, eyes softened with compassion. And for the first time in Jim's life, he felt afraid. Jim had believed in the elder Vulcan, that he'd be transported back onto the _Enterprise._ This wasn't the _Enterprise_, not _his_ or any he recognized. The man who stood over him was older, wiser, and crueler…much crueler.

_Shit._

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**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviews are much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter Two: A Rose Is Still A Rose

**WARNING: This chapter will contain graphic violence, language, light references to rape/child abuse, a bit dark. **

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**Ghosts of Me**

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**Chapter two: A Rose Is Still A Rose**

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Jim paced feverishly in the brig, the clinking of the long chain attached to his ankle that hooked to the wall echoed loudly in the small space. It was an old fashion device, if it had been keypad operated, he would've been freed of its nuisance by now. His head whirled at intense rate, trying to piece together the predicament he was in. The man said he was James T. Kirk, was that really him? Had he somehow traveled to the future?

He fiddled with the cast on his arm; Bones had splinted the broken elbow. A light break, it would heal quickly. He had stitched up the stab wound; gauze clung to it, taped down on his skin in a wadded mess. Too deep to heal with healing beams he had said and apologized every time Jim cried out in pain as the needle pierced his skin.

He sighed heavily. If this was the future, what happened to him? This man who found joy in the suffering of others, whose eyes shone brightly with a madness he'd only seen one other time…

_Stop!_ His mind screamed, _don't go there._

A frustrated growl escaped him, slamming a first hard against the metal wall, sending tingles of pain up his arm. What the hell was he going to do? He didn't know anything about time travel except for the black hole the elder Spock and Nero had passed through. But he assumed there weren't any black holes lingering around for his use, plus he wasn't sure where he'd end up if he did decide to attempt it.

Pressing his back against the wall, he slid down until he sat on the floor, digging his hand into his hair. He wasn't sure how long he'd been cooped up in the cell, all time eluded him. Jim's stomach growled and he tried to swallow a small amount of saliva to sooth his dry throat. No one had come to check up on him or bring him any food or water. He wasn't too surprised by it. No doubt the "Captain" had ordered the crew to deprive him.

"It appears you have made a full recovery." A voice cut through the air and Jim jerked in alarm, whipping his head up to see the Vulcan lingering at the entrance. He glared at him before averting his attention elsewhere.

"Yeah, seems like it." He snapped, attempting to expel as much animosity as possible with his tone.

"Fascinating."

Jim's eyebrows lifted at the word, glancing back to the Vulcan whose own eyebrow was arched.

"What?" He retorted.

"You are remarkably similar." Spock inclined his head, "And not in just appearance alone."

Jim snorted, "Sure."

Spock released the doors and Jim was suddenly on his feet, charging him. He swung the fist with the injured arm, aiming for his face but the Vulcan caught it in a near bone breaking grip. Swinging his good arm, he managed to strike his jaw, the skin on his knuckles splitting from the impact. There was a blur of motion as Spock backhanded him, pushing him back into the wall. Dazed, Jim couldn't block the blow to his diaphragm, winding him. He hacked violently as he struggled to inhale; Spock took the opportunity, reaching down to unlock the device around his ankle before hauling him up over his shoulder.

Jim swayed as he was carried down the corridor, recovering enough from the blow to begin flailing, trying to fight off the iron grip that held him in place.

"Let me go!" Jim's voice cracked, wriggling around, but the grip tightened, digging into his back causing him to gasp and still.

There was a hiss of doors as they entered a dim room, and the surroundings reeled for a moment as he was roughly thrown onto a chair, metal cuffs locking around his wrists, keeping him firmly in place. He glared up at Spock who stood before him, hands clasped behind his back, a green bruise appearing on the pale skin by his jawline.

"Under Empire regulations, you are required to inform me who you are and how you were able to beam aboard this vessel." Spock's eyes bore into his, unflinching.

Jim wasn't going to comply. He wasn't skilled with staying silent but he knew he needed to be. With the reaction they had given him to his name alone, he knew the rest had to remain hidden.

He clenched his teeth, jutted out his chin, "Fuck you."

Spock nodded and it confused him for a moment. Why was he nodding? Was he acknowledging that he wouldn't answer? Or possibly was it a gesture of admiration for Jim's fighting spirit? The Vulcan's hand reached out, entwining in his hair before gripping it tightly, twisting until Jim cried out. Heated pads of fingers pressed firmly on his face and he tried to jerk free. Jim's wrists bit into the cold metal of the cuffs, his feet attempting to kick at Spock's legs.

"Do not fight." Spock murmured and Jim felt something brush the front of his mind, his strained muscles suddenly relaxing, feet falling onto the floor, motionless.

"Get…out…" Jim grounded out through clenched teeth.

Spock stayed silent, scanning Jim's face.

"Interesting." He said softly and before Jim could say another word, he felt the presence at the front of his mind plunge deep, a bright light erupting through his vision as Spock's mind penetrated into his. The force smashed into him, dizzying him for a moment as it probed and pushed its way through his thoughts.

_Who are you?_ A disembodied voice demanded.

Jim tried not to think about it, desperately attempting to keep his thoughts secured, blank. But the more he attempted the more they surfaced. The presence noticed and reached out, yanking it forcefully towards the forefront of his mind and images of his life spilled before him, rushing like water, flooding the barren plain.

An image morphed before him. An older man with disheveled brunette hair, a five o'clock shadow on his chin, eyes bloodshot, stained clothes, clutching a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. The man reached out to Jim, gripping his shirt, the potent aroma of alcohol on his breath.

"_You little piece of shit, you're the reason she left! If you didn't remind her of the goddamn 'hero' that everyone adores, she'd still be here with me! She doesn't want you and she dumped you on me!"_

"_You're wrong!" Jim cried out. She had to love him, he was her son. But why would she leave? _

"_Am I?" He growled, "Who would want a worthless little punk like you? Do you know how much trouble she got in after you stole that car? Huh? You know how much trouble I got in? You're lucky you're still breathing!"_

_Tears stung at Jim's eyes, his fists balled tightly, "Fuck you!" He screamed. _

The man's eyes went wild with anger, the movements too quick, the pain too real. As fast as it started it was over. He was suddenly lying on the ground, gulping down painful breaths as he cried, the man standing above him smiling—smiling at his pain.

The image faded and he was suddenly on a planet that resembled Earth, but not quite. The city flourished with immigrants, abuzz with panic. The famine hit _Tarsus IV_ hard, he was starving but everywhere he looked he couldn't find anything to eat. The animals had perished long ago. There was no transport off the planet. Hungry and weak, he stumbled through the crowd. His feet dragged, he felt so tired. Jim was too dazed to notice the loose cobblestone jutting out in front of him. His foot caught and he went flying forward, squeezing his eyes shut, bracing himself before a pair of strong hands caught him.

"_Hey, kid. Are you okay?" The man asked gently, helping him regain his equilibrium but not releasing his arms. _

"_Yeah, I'm fine." Jim said tentatively. _

"_You don't look fine. I bet you're hungry, want something to eat? I've got some leftovers back home. You can have some if you want." The man smiled at him. "But I need you to do me a favor first okay?"_

"_Okay." Jim said sheepishly as he was lead through the crowd. _

He didn't know, but how could he? Hands were on him, he tried to scream but his face was pressed further into the mattress, cutting off his pleas. Jim couldn't breathe, the fire of pain in his body screamed through him, the quick panting of the man echoing in his ear. Weak, so weak, he couldn't fend for himself. How stupid could he be to trust him, how simply foolish! God, he was such an idiot!

_Stop! Please, stop! _

Suddenly the presence eased, throwing him into an empty silence inside his head as the room flooded back. Jim gasped for breath; hot tears stung his eyes, tracking down his face. He shook violently as he wept. The Vulcan stood silently, watching him. A voice was screaming, begging for him to stop and it took a moment to realize it was him and quickly stifled his pleas.

"B-bastard." Jim hissed as another sob wracked his body. He couldn't stop it, the pain of the memories rolled through him in waves.

"I insist you cooperate. It will be less painful for you." Spock said his voice firm. There was something underlining his tone. No, it couldn't be? Jim glanced up through blurred vision, dark eyes stared back but they were softened. Was that concern he saw in the Vulcan's eyes? No, he had to be hallucinating.

Jim inhaled a shaky breath.

"What…do you want from me?" He breathed, staring intently away from Spock at the wall behind him, his breath hitching as he attempted to calm himself.

"What is your name?"

Jim rolled his eyes.

"God…not this again." Jim sighed, "I'm James Tiberius Kirk!" His voice came out weak, defeated.

"It is illogical as there is already a James Kirk."

He grunted, "I know, dammit!"

"Your resistance is futile." He approached Jim again; hand reaching for him and the Human flinched.

"Please, God! I'm telling the truth!" His voice raised a few octaves, desperate.

The Vulcan ignored him, replacing his fingers back on the Human's face. Jim whimpered softly before sudden explosion of light erupted again, helpless as the memories of the most trying times of his life flashed before him. The process repeated continuously, Spock replaying his most haunted memories until he became exhausted, sagging in the chair, trembling, struggling to stay coherent.

From behind Spock, the doors hissed open and two men entered.

"He's stronger than I anticipated." The Captain strolled up to stand beside Spock. "Still isn't talking?" He glanced from Jim to the Vulcan.

"No, Captain. He still insists he is James Kirk."

"Captain." McCoy's voice said softly as he approached. "Permission to see to his condition, sir?" He asked tentatively.

The man whirled around to the doctor, a gentle smile on his face.

"You don't have to speak so formally to me here, Bones." His hand reached out, caressing the doctor's cheek. "You have a weak spot for him, why?"

McCoy glanced from the captain to Jim, eyes searching him again.

"You can't tell me you don't see it." Bones whispered. "Jim, I think he's telling the truth."

The captain let out a harsh laugh.

"You can't be serious!" He whirled from the doctor, stalking over to the slumped form of Jim, grabbing a fistful of hair before yanking his head upwards. "What is it that you want? My ship?" He growled.

"No." Jim whispered.

The captain released his head roughly before another powerful blow struck Jim again in the face, his nose crunching, blood rushing from his nostrils. He had barely a moment to recover before another blow rocked his head to the side again, seeing stars. The beatings came swiftly, one after another. There was shouting before the blows abruptly stopped. Jim's head pounded, his ears ringing, coughing as he swallowed a mouthful of blood. The room began to spin.

"Captain, the doctor has violated the—"

"Yes, Mr. Spock, I am aware." The captain snapped. "Bones, I can only let you off the hook so many times before I have to issue a form of discipline." His voice softened, "Is _he _worth what I would need to do?"

Silence enveloped the room; Jim could only hear his raspy breaths.

"Remove him from my sight. I'll see to him later, I still have the Halkan council to…_persuade_. After you've finished your exam, meet us in the transporter room. Come Mr. Spock." He barked before the doors hissed, the captain departing with Spock trailing after him.

There was a small pause before gentle hands were on the sides of Jim's face, making him jerk away, whimpering. Vivid flashes of the man on _Tarsus IV _appearing before him. The man's hands bore the same gentleness before they took him. He was in the man's bedroom, couldn't move, couldn't breathe, his hands everywhere, no escape. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

"Hey." The voice said gently, "Let me look at you."

"No." Jim whimpered, "Please…please don't." He pleaded weakly.

"Jim." The voice soothed, "It's me, Bones. I'm not going to hurt you, look at me."

Opening his eyes proved difficult, they felt heavy, weighted. The image of the man's bedroom dispersed, leaving an older doctor behind, kneeling before him. His hand was reaching out, hovering above Jim's face. There was a soft expression to the doctor's face that Jim had only seen from one other person—the elder Spock.

"You are him." Bones whispered, "Dammit, you really _are_ him. I don't know how or where you came from. But I would recognize you anywhere." He swallowed hard as his hands again pressed gently on Jim's face and Jim jerked again but the doctor didn't pull back. "It's okay. I won't let them…I'll talk to Jim, he'll listen to me…." Bones rambled on, not quite directing his words at Jim and all the young man could do was listen quietly. "He's a brute, but when he's with me he's different, believe me."

Jim stared at McCoy warily.

"He's…going to kill me…isn't he?" Jim's voice was barely audible, even speaking seemed too exerting.

Bones was suddenly in Jim's personal space, wrapping his arms gently around the young man.

"I'll protect you, Jim." He whispered, "I promised you a long time ago, I won't let anyone hurt you. Even after you murdered Pike and took command, I couldn't leave your side." He mumbled hastily in Jim's hair. "You were so innocent, and then you changed with the rising of the Empire. But I know the _real_ you is still hidden in there somewhere, I see it when we're alone." The doctor's body started trembling as he continued, "And now you're here, just as I remember you only with a few minor differences. But it's _you_, just like you were before!"

Jim's head began to swim; it was too much to think about. He was hungry, tired, and felt as though he had been emptied out, hollow. His body demanded rest, to rejuvenate and he groaned softly, causing Bones to ease back from the hug.

"Rest, Jim. I'll figure out a way to get you back to where you belong."

Jim didn't need to be told twice, he allowed the heaviness to take a hold of him, drifting slowly into sleep. He felt something warm and soft press against his forehead and he swore he thought he heard something, but he wasn't sure. So faint, he could have just been hallucinating.

"_I love you."_

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**A/N: Thank you for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter Three: No-Win Scenarios

**WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence and language.**

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**Ghosts of Me**

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**Chapter Three: No-Win Scenarios**

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Jim jolted awake, someone was screaming loudly and only when hands grabbed his shoulders did he realize the screaming was emitting from him. He stopped, gasping as a wave of pain slammed into him again. He struggled to inhale a deep breath but a sharp pain in his chest prevented it, causing him to hack violently. A gentle hand slid underneath the back of his head, lifting it up slightly, something cold lightly touching his bottom lip.

"Here, drink this." A voice said, softly.

Straining his eyes open, he saw through bleary vision the face of McCoy. The source of the chill on his lip was the rim of a metal cup. He recognized he was in Sickbay again, how he always managed to wind up needing medical attention astonished him. He attempted to open his jaw and winced from a spike of shooting pain, squeezing his eyes shut, groaning.

"Your jaw is slightly dislocated." Bones stated, "But you can't go any longer without fluids. This…is all he'll allow me to do."

Jim moaned softly, feeling the cold metal biting at his lip as it lightly nestled between his teeth, slowly forcing his jaw apart and he cringed before the water poured into his mouth. It was dirty, warm, and he choked as it slid down his dry throat. The cup pulled away as he coughed, the sharp pain erupting in his chest again, hearing the small clank of the metal as the doctor set it down on the table beside the biobed before a hand gently stroked Jim's forehead.

"Easy, breathe slowly." He soothed, "The hobgoblin broke a few ribs. I managed to mend them before they punctured your lung but you're going to be sore for a while." His voice wavered.

His vision cleared, glancing over McCoy's face and frowned. The man was pale, red marks stood out against his ashen skin around his neck, his hands shook slightly. He looked worried, afraid.

Jim coughed again, "H-how…long have I been out?" He croaked.

"Twelve hours." He sighed, removing his hand from Jim's face to retrieve the metal cup. "It's normal after immense mental torture. I guess you could consider yourself lucky, not everyone survives it."

"They die?" Jim inquired weakly.

"No." The doctor lifted Jim's head, placing the cup to his lips again. "They lose their minds."

Jim coughed down the dirty liquid. It was grainy, unpleasant, but welcome. He greedily gulped it down until he began to gag, dry heaving from the taste. McCoy pulled the nearly empty cup from him, watching him with heavy concern.

"W-what happened…to you?" Jim breathed, staring intently at the ring of red around his neck.

Bones flinched, placing Jim's head back down gently before averting his gaze.

"Don't worry about me, Jim." He mumbled as he began to recheck his injuries.

Jim lifted his arm, gripping his wrist tightly causing the old country doctor to return his attention to him.

"I know you…better than that, Bones." His voice strained.

McCoy frowned at him and opened his mouth to say something when a sinister voice cut through the room.

"The Captain demands the prisoner's presence in the sparring room at once."

McCoy whirled around to the entrance of the room and Jim shifted his head to look and winced at the malicious grin spread across the Asian's face. A murderous glint in his eyes, a giant scar spread across the entire right side of his face, he crossed his arms nonchalantly as he strode into the room followed closely by four burly security guards. The man looked familiar, but Jim couldn't quite place where he had seen him before.

"He's still recovering!" Bones groused. "The Captain can wait."

"Are you going against direct orders, Doctor?" The man smirked, pulling a small silver device from his belt. "You know what happens if you disobey the Captain's orders. You may be his love toy, but rules are rules."

Jim's eyes widened at the comment, glancing back to Bones who scowled at the man, hands clenching.

"Oh come now, Mr. Sulu." A feminine voice said softly, "You know what the Captain would do to you if you harmed him." Uhura slid from around the security guards. Jim gaped at her, she was almost unrecognizable. Much older in age like the others, but she was shorter with a more prominent hourglass figure, hair trimmed to her cheekbones, the same murderous glint in her eyes as Sulu. She plucked the device from the man's hand who glared at her.

"It's my right to punish him." He sneered.

She ignored him, traipsing over to the biobed, her hand reaching up to caress McCoy's face. He shuddered under her touch, cringing away from her and she released a sinister laugh before turning from him to Jim. Her hand reached out toward him but before she could place a finger on his body, a hand firmly grasped her wrist, whirling her back around to a red faced doctor.

"Don't you touch him!" He spat and Jim's eyebrows rose at the sudden hostility.

The hand with the device lashed out, connecting the device to McCoy's torso, eliciting a scream of pain from him. He released his grip, stumbling back against the biobed, clutching the side of the bed in an iron grip as she continued torturing him. Jim lurched up to a sitting position, clenching his teeth from the aching in his body before sliding from the biobed. A rush of adrenaline coursed through him, inhaling a shaky breath before lunging for hear clumsily, forcing her away from Bones as they landed in a tangled mess on the floor.

She was as strong as the Uhura he knew, flipping him around with ease, landing hard on his back as she straddled him, pinning him to the floor.

"How _dare _you attack a lady!" She shrieked, attaching the device to the crook of his neck. A burning electric pain shot through his body, igniting each nerve and cell in fire. He howled in agony, attempting to move his arms but his muscles wouldn't comply. Jim's eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body tensed, feeling the sting of the popping muscles beneath his skin.

The pain quickly dissipated as she was yanked forcefully from him and his body trembled as it attempted to recover from the immediate shock. He snapped his eyes open to see Sulu wrestling her back. Hands were suddenly clasping ahold of him, hoisting him to his feet too fast, it made his head spin. The hands belonged to two guards, tightening their grip on his arms as they roughly pushed him towards the doors.

The voice of Uhura screamed behind him, "I want him dead!" The tone in her voice sent chills down his spine as they exited the Sickbay. His body protested, the adrenaline ebbed and he stumbled along the corridors and into the Turbolift. To his surprise, Spock was waiting inside, his eyes trained on Jim. His heart leapt into his throat, the memory of the torture still too fresh. He struggled against the hands, attempting to flee from him, but they gripped him tighter and held him in place until the doors hissed shut.

"He attacked the Communications Officer, sir." One of the guards said in a brusque tone. "Also the doctor is guilty of the same action."

The Vulcan tilted his head, an eyebrow arching.

"Has the doctor been properly disciplined?" He inquired.

"She was enforcing the discipline when _he _interfered."

Jim panted, his body shook. Between the injuries, physical exertion, torture, and lack of food he had reached his limits. He realized the only way he was standing was from the guard's grip on his arms. He stared intently at his feet, trying to avoid eye contact with his assailant from only a short time ago.

"You have proven to be quite a menace." He said flatly as a hand grasped his face forcing him to look up and he flinched, feeling his body react in fear. "Your will is extraordinary." Spock examined Jim's face for a moment longer before releasing him, his head falling weakly. He remained silent, barely having enough strength to even stay focused.

The doors hissed again as the Turbolift reached its destination. They exited, leaving Spock behind in the lift. Jim was half dragged through the corridor and into the sparring room where the Captain stood, a crowd gathered near the walls. Jim was thrown onto the torn mat, his hands attempting to break his fall but failing as they scraped against the tattered material. He lied there, listening to the pounding of his heart in his chest, the shallow breaths he exhaled.

The Captain's voice boomed over him, "This will be your final opportunity to reveal your intentions. If you do not comply, you will engage in battle until your demise."

Jim lied still, too tired to move. The fight was all out of him, drained. The captain strode from his spot, bending down close to Jim's ear.

"What will it be?" His voice dropped into a hushed whisper, "There isn't enough room for the both of us in this universe."

Jim's heart hammered in his chest. The captain knew he was telling the truth.

"Decide." The captain demanded as he rose back to his feet.

Jim couldn't try to convince him, he already knew who he was. He didn't want to know why Jim was there.

He wanted him dead.

Arms shaking, Jim pushed himself to all fours, staring up at his older self. What had happened? What had caused him to become this way? He said nothing, staring at the man who smirked down at him. The captain nodded, glancing away from Jim.

"Bring in the Halkan prisoner." He demanded.

There was shuffling as a man limped into view. His shoulders hunched, one eye swelling and darkening an ugly purple. He stared at Jim with softened eyes.

"I'll make a deal with you, Halkan. You will fight this young man," the captain pointed at him, "and kill him. If you succeed, I will spare your people. If you fail, you will watch as they perish."

A man stepped into view as though it was his cue, thrusting a dagger into the man's hands before turning toward Jim. Reaching down, he helped Jim to his feet before roughly handing him his own dagger. He smiled, eyes twinkling with a dark emotion that sent shivers down Jim's spine.

"If _you_ win," The captain directed his attention toward Jim, "I'll let you live as a slave aboard my ship." He grinned and Jim swallowed hard. This was a clever set up. If this James Kirk knew his younger self well, he knew he couldn't bring himself to kill an innocent. The captain stepped away from the mat, crossing his arms in amusement. "Begin."

In a blink of an eye, the Halkan was on him. He wasn't sure when the old man had moved, but he was suddenly pinned down on the mat, winded. A hand clasped his throat, applying pressure until he squirmed beneath him, choking.

"Please, forgive me." The man whispered softly, eyes glittering with tears. "I do not wish this."

Jim's hand gripped the Halkan's wrist, weakly attempting to pry him off. Black dots danced in his vision, his chest burned as he struggled to inhale. He clutched the dagger in his hand tightly, plunging it deep into the Halkan's side and the man cried out, toppling to his side, releasing Jim's throat abruptly. A hiss off air echoed through the room as Jim breathed, rolling away from the Halkan, shakily rising to all fours, gulping down as much air as possible.

Stumbling to his feet, he braced himself as the Halkan rushed him again. He swung a fist at the Halkan's face and the man blocked, countering the attack with a blow to Jim's stomach, taking Jim's moment of vulnerability to slice at his chest with the dagger. Jim screamed at the white-hot pain, feeling warm liquid soaking his shirt, stumbling back into the crowd against the wall. The men pushed him roughly back toward the Halkan and he used the leverage to tackle the man to the ground.

Jim placed the tip of the blade to his throat, pressing down until a trickle of blood flowed from the small wound. His body shook, his vision blurred as the Halkan stared up at him, eyes wide with fear. He couldn't hold out much longer, but he couldn't kill him.

"I…can't." Jim whispered into the man's face. "I can't do it." He pulled the knife away from his throat.

The Halkan nodded solemnly.

"I am sorry."

The man's knife plunged deep into Jim's stomach and his breath caught in his throat as the sharp blade ripped through him. He gurgled as a rush of warm liquid shot up into his mouth, filling it with a copper taste before spilling through his lips, driblets landing on the man's face below him. He crumpled forward, falling off the man and onto the mat with a thud, the cheers muffled, heat fading from him as white ate away at his vision.

"I have accomplished the task." He heard the Halkan above him almost at a distance, "Now, you must uphold your end of the bargain."

There was a laugh, "Did you really believe I meant it? You have refused us the crystals, now we will have no resistance in retrieving them."

"You…you can't!" The Halkan exclaimed.

"I already have. My First Officer has already beamed down to the planet with the landing party. By now, your people should all be dead."

Jim heard an agonizing scream before he felt his body turn to ice, the breath left his body, and watched as the world faded away in a bright light.

* * *

Pain. It ripped through the blissful darkness, pulling him back to his senses. It was the only indication he was alive. He was alive?

"Dammit Spock, I'm not just going to let him die!"

"Doctor, if we are to uphold our appearance, we must allow it."

"I don't care, I'm saving him!"

A sting rang out in his arm and he moaned. Hands were pressing hard against his stomach, sending shooting pain through his body and he hissed.

"F-fuck, Bones…th-that hurts." His voice came out garbled, weak, and the pressure ceased for a moment.

"What did you just say?" The doctor's voice was confident, deeper. A hand touched his face.

His eyes felt heavy, his lids sticking together as he opened them. He blinked rapidly, attempting to clear away the shapes and shadows. The familiar face swam into view; it was the same old Bones. However, the scar was gone along with the longing in his eyes. Someone shifted beside the doctor as Spock entered his line of sight. Jim froze in fear for a moment before furrowing his eyebrows, bemused that the Vulcan's goatee had suddenly disappeared as well. They scrutinized Jim's face, and he felt the desire to squirm under their gaze.

"Spock…is it just me…?" Bones said, furrowing his eyebrows as well before glancing back at the Vulcan.

"No, Doctor. I have also observed the similarities." Spock's voice was different, softer.

Jim's head began to spin, he moaned. This was too confusing.

Bones leaned in closer, "What's your name?"

Jim glared up at him, anger flaring through him at the question. "I thought…you already knew." He said darkly.

"Humor me." He crossed his arms.

It was Jim's turn to scrutinize him. Not quite understanding what was happening, "Jim Kirk." He was becoming real tired of repeating himself.

McCoy's eyebrows shot up, "What?"

Jim groaned in frustration, closing his eyes, gritting his teeth. The blip of the heart monitor spiked, "I'm James Tiberius Kirk! How many goddamn times do I have to say it?" He exclaimed and instantly regretted it as he began to cough again, violently. He felt the familiar copper flavor spill into his mouth. His body began to convulse, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Spock, help me!" Bones shouted as hands grabbed him.

He felt fingers against his face, but he couldn't scream to get them off. Something eased gently into his mind, his muscles relaxed. A small gasp was heard beside him, a voice echoing inside his head.

"_T'hy'la?"_

Then the world slipped away.

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**A/N: Thank you for reading and please review!**


	4. Chapt Four: Knight In Shining Blue Armor

**WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence and language. **

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Four: His Knight In Shining Blue Armor**

* * *

When he came to, he felt strong arms wrapped around him, cradling him to their chest, his head resting in the nape of their neck. He was jostled slightly with each step the person took, listening to their steady breaths as they carried him. Jim felt numb, attempting to will his body to move but found it impossible. Eyes fluttering open, his vision adjusted, taking in a light blue uniform, the person's chest rising and falling as the surroundings fleeted by.

"Spock, you sure this will work?" He heard McCoy's voice beside him.

"If my calculations are correct, Doctor, we should be able to transport ourselves back to our own reality given the time frame. I assume the Captain has already deduced the counterparts in our universe are counterfeit." Spock's voice vibrated in his chest as Jim quietly listened.

"What about _him_? You said it yourself that it was an exchange of equal matter due to the ion storm while we were beaming."

"I will compensate his structure in the programming, allowing equal material in our universe to exchange with his."

"Sounds a bit risky, wouldn't you say?" Bones inquired incredulously.

"Would you prefer he remains behind, Doctor?"

Bones grunted, "Of course not. It's obvious he isn't of this universe either; we've already met the Jim here. He's much younger; his appearance is slightly altered too. I don't want to leave him here to die."

"I am inclined to agree."

"It's a miracle." Bones grumbled.

Jim weakly shifted his head upward, staring up into the face of the older Spock. Fear of the Vulcan crept through his body but he was too weak to protest him carrying him. Spock must have sensed him staring and quickly glanced down, meeting Jim's eyes.

"You are awake." He said softly, continuing to stride through the corridors.

"Yeah." Jim whispered, his heart hammering against his chest. These two were of another universe? Did that mean he was too? That this was some alternate reality versus the future he had originally thought? He stared into the chocolate irises of Spock's eyes, the softness similar to the elder Spock he had met. Could this be the true form of him? No, this couldn't be true.

The Vulcan scrutinized him for a moment longer before ripping his attention away as they entered into the lift.

Jim swallowed thickly.

"You're not…going to kill me?" He asked tentatively over the whir of machinery. He was bemused by the complex of his situation, unsure who they were and if possible that they were the same people attempting to fool him.

Spock's head shot down quickly, reconnecting their eyes. An emotion stirred inside them, sadness? Jim wasn't quite sure. The Vulcan's face relaxed into a gentle expression, feeling his hands grip him tighter to his body protectively. It was odd to see the tenderness compared to that of the Spock who tore into his mind only a short time ago.

"I would not allow such harm to come to you." He whispered, his tone causing Jim's stomach to clench, his heart fluttered.

Bones shuffled toward the pair, flipping out his tricorder, sweeping the device along Jim's body. Sighing heavily, he frowned at the Vulcan before returning his gaze to Jim, cerulean eyes boring into the blue hues of Jim's, forcing Jim to glance away.

"I pumped you full of painkillers and muscle relaxers so you shouldn't be able to feel anything, but you're in bad shape, Jim." Bones said softly.

Jim nodded weakly, "I know."

"Do you know who we are?" Bones asked hesitantly.

"I'm not sure." Jim closed his eyes, feeling a gradual pressure building in his chest. "I'm not sure about anything." He clenched his teeth. This "rescue" was going exceptionally well, hardly any resistance. This had to be false, a ruse to distract him from an impending doom. Perhaps Spock had seen the elder Spock in his memories? Maybe that was what he based his new personality off of?

A hand rested upon his head and his eyes snapped open to find the hand belonged to the doctor, his eyes softening at the sight of him. Jim hated that look, he hated pity.

"We're not here to hurt you." Bones said gently, moving his hand away from the young man's head.

Jim snorted, "A little too late for that." He glared up at Spock and watched as the eyebrow arched at his statement. "You can cut the act." He spat, "I know this is a ploy."

A pained look crossed over the Vulcan's face before receding quickly. He opened his mouth to speak when the lift's doors hissed open, revealing the "Captain", grinning, eyes sparkling with malice. Guards stood at attention behind him, Sulu lingering at his side. They exited the lift, standing a few feet shy of them.

"Mr. Spock, Doctor McCoy, where are you heading with the prisoner?" His voice held a sinister ring to it.

Jim's body stiffened in Spock's grasp at the voice and Spock's hands clutched him possessively in response.

"We're carrying out your whim." Bones quipped.

The Captain's eyebrow rose slightly.

"Oh? Is that so?" The captain strolled up to Spock, his eyes ghosting over his face curiously. "If that were the case, why has his wounds been attended to? I ordered no medical assistance." He glanced over to McCoy.

McCoy's eyes wandered over the captain's face warily, remaining silent.

The captain sidled up to the doctor, a hand reaching out to caress his lips with the pad of his thumb and Bones flinched at the intimate touch. There was a sudden whir of motion as the captain backhanded him, a loud smack echoing off the metal bulkheads as his head rocked to the side. The world reeled as Spock hastily set Jim down, allowing his back to rest against the wall before turning in time to block the guard's attack.

Jim watched helplessly as the two fought against the group, the mixture of painkillers and muscle relaxers still processing through his veins, numbing his body. The Vulcan fended off the burly security guards while Bones struggled in the brawl against the older version of him. He cursed under his breath, mentally noting to tell the doctor off if they survived this.

Sulu slid into view, bending down over Jim, the blade of the dagger glittering in his hand.

"I know who you are. I overheard the Captain and the First Officer. I had hoped the both of you would've finished each other off so all I would have left to take care of was that damn Vulcan, but I sadly underestimated your capabilities." He sneered, leaning in closer, the tip of the blade resting against Jim's chest, twisting it into the thin cloth of his tattered uniform until a thin line of blood leaked from the puncture wound.

Jim glared at him, "What are you waiting for? If you're going to do it, then do it already." He spat through gritted teeth. He knew he was licked. With no control over his body the man had full advantage to end his life.

The dagger flittered away from his chest, resting instead against his jugular, a malicious grin creeping across Sulu's face.

"Oh, I plan to. However, while our friends are busy, I have the opportunity to take my time with you."

Jim cringed inwardly, not caring to know what this man planned to do. The dagger dipped into his skin and even with the drugs coursing through him, he felt the sharp pinch of it and drew in a sharp gasp. The man smiled wickedly at him, the murderous glint in his eye twinkled through the dark pupils as he slowly began to rip a line through his skin.

_This is it._ He thought as he squeezed his eyes shut. _This is how it's going to end, paralyzed while this madman slices my throat. _

It wasn't the way he wanted his life to end. If he could've chosen, it would've been heroic, saving lives.

Just like his father.

There was a deep growl emanating over the scuffling noises and a sharp intake of breath from the man in front of him. Jim wrenched his eyes open to find a pale hand latched onto the Asian's throat, the dagger had been knocked from the man's hands and it sat at a safe distance away from his grip. Sulu's eyes bugged, his mouth hung open as pitiful sounds escaped him, desperately attempting to inhale. The owner of the hand bent down until he was eyelevel with the man, snarling into his face.

"You will _not _touch him!" He growled, his eyes narrowed, teeth barred.

Sulu's lips began to dye a dark purple, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Jim swallowed hard and his voice sounded weak as he cried out, "Spock!"

The Vulcan paused, his face deadening before roughly releasing the grip on the man's throat and watched as he slumped onto the floor unconscious. He glanced at Jim, nodding curtly before rising to his feet, rushing over to aid the doctor with his altercation. The captain was too distracted to notice as the Vulcan's slender fingers clenched tightly onto the crook of his neck, the man instantly stilled, collapsing onto his knees before keeling over onto the floor with a loud thud. The security guards were littered amongst him, out cold.

A silence draped over the corridor, the raspy pants of the doctor was the only audible sound.

"Doctor, are you all right?" Spock inquired, placing a hand on the man's arm.

Bones let out a huff.

"Dammit, Spock." He gulped down air, "Quit showing me up, would you?" McCoy's nose bled steadily, dark bruises were beginning to appear on his cheek and brow, his uniform was ripped in random spots. Raising a hand to wipe away the perspiration from his face, he paused a moment, the small scowl melting away as he patted Spock's arm before mumbling a "thanks".

Spock nodded before pivoting, returning to Jim who sat there too stunned for words. Could it be that they were telling the truth? The Vulcan knelt, dark eyes connecting with his as he reached out to his face. The image of Spock's hand approaching him sent a jolt through his body, the vision of Spock's fingers against him, the pain of the memories invaded his mind and he jerked back his head before the pads of those fingers could touch him again.

Spock's eyes grew wide for a moment, scanning Jim's face before pulling his hand away.

"Forgive me." He whispered as Bones suddenly pushed passed him, his tricorder whirring over Jim's body for the second time.

"Dammit, Jim." He groused, "How do you always manage to get yourself injured?"

Jim smiled genuinely at the older man. He reminded him so much of the Bones he knew.

"I'm just lucky, I guess." He chuckled weakly.

Bones shook his head in response.

"Doctor, our window of opportunity is dwindling." Spock reminded him mildly, still kneeling, eyes scrutinizing Jim causing him to want to squirm from the weight of his stare.

"I know, Spock." He said, reaching out with callused fingers, turning Jim's head to examine the wound Sulu had inflicted. "Thankfully, it's not too deep." He whipped his head around to Spock, "I still can't do much for him until I'm back in my own Sickbay."

"Then we must make haste, Doctor. It is approximately 2.3 minutes until the precise moment we are to be present on the transporter pad." He hesitantly reached out to Jim again; avoiding his face as he lifted him with ease into his arms. Jim couldn't help but feel like a little girl's doll the way he was carted around, his body limp and flimsy.

Bones nodded, "Right, let's go."

Without another word they jogged down the corridor, turning into the transporter room before skidding to a halt as the young Ensign jumped in alarm.

"Hey!" The man shouted angrily, marching over to them before abruptly halting, "Oh, sir, forgive me I didn't recognize you." He said promptly, saluting him.

McCoy glanced at Spock curiously before traipsing up onto the platform.

"Well?" McCoy inquired, his voice emphasizing on the word.

The Vulcan carried Jim to the platform, easing him down onto the pad before striding down to the controls. He worked diligently before turning toward the Ensign who stood rigid at attention.

"You will pull the lever upon my command." He demanded and the man nodded.

Pleased with the man's cooperation, Spock glided up onto the platform, taking his place on the pad nearest to Jim who lied in an awkward angle upon his own. Spock averted his gaze away from Jim, his face blank. And for a moment, Jim wondered if this Spock was the elder he had met inside the cave, the one who referred to him as his friend.

"Energize." Spock blurted out suddenly, startling Jim out of his trance.

The familiar lights surrounded him, his body tingling as he was swept away from the horrors he had endured. Only to realize that he still wasn't going home, being transported into another universe that didn't belong to him. The question to consider was how it would contrast to the ones he had come to know?

The thought fleeted away momentarily before rematerializing back into the transporter room, his head spinning as hands grabbed him again, hauling him up into strong arms. His head came to rest against the Vulcan's chest again, feeling it rise and fall with each breath.

"Mr. Spock." A familiar voice chimed and Jim's heart stopped, glancing to the same older face, smiling warily at them. "Good to have you back." He said softly as he quickly approached them.

"Indeed." Spock nodded to him, his mouth twitching slightly at the corners.

"Jim, we don't have time for pleasantries right now, I have to get this kid to Sickbay." McCoy cut in, jabbing his thumb in the air toward the younger Jim.

The captain glanced at McCoy before scrutinizing Jim curiously.

"Alright." He said tentatively, eyebrows hiking up questionably at Spock.

"I'll explain everything there, Jim. Spock, c'mon, he's not out of the woods yet." Bones nudged his head towards the door before striding from the pad and Spock ensued closely, the captain trailing behind them.

This _Enterprise _seemed different, lighter, more carefree than the other. Jim marveled at the layout, opposite from the _ISS_ and familiar but still wasn't quite like the ship he belonged to. Jim felt wary, though these other forms seemed to be friendly enough, he still wasn't sure if it was real or just an act. Hell, it could all just be a crazy dream he was experiencing while he was lying unconscious on Delta Vega.

They entered the Sickbay and Spock placed him onto the biobed that sprung to life immediately with the blipping of his heart rate. The painkillers began to ebb and he felt the first wave of pain hit him, eliciting a strained cry from his lips, his hand shooting out to clutch something, anything. He gripped onto a solid object, it was much warmer, soft, and he bore down as he fought through the pain. He heard Bones shouting for the nurse, a jumbled mess of medical mumbo-jumbo that he couldn't comprehend.

Another sting rang out in his arm and he let out a flurry of curses before relief seeped through him as his muscles relaxed. He took a few deep breaths before acknowledging that he was still clinging onto something. Tilting his head, he found his hand clutching Spock's hand, fingers still wrapped tightly around the Vulcan's palm. Heat flared in his face as he glanced up quickly to meet his eyes. They were soft, heavily coated with concern and Jim quickly released his hand, turning his head to look away from him, his heart pounding, causing the monitor to spike to the sudden change. What was wrong with him?

"Hey." Bones leaned in, "I need to get you into surgery. So I'm going to need to put you under for a while. Are you comfortable with that?"

Jim stared up at the doctor, fear rushing through him.

"I…I have a ton of allergies." He mumbled out, trying to avoid the dreaded darkness again.

Bones issued a small smile, "I know." He placed a hand on Jim's shoulder. "I can't tell you to trust me. I can only ask if you'll try to. You have an enormous amount of internal bleeding and if I don't operate soon, you'll die."

Jim swallowed hard, taking in McCoy's words before nodding hesitantly.

Bones gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before reaching for a hypospray. He stabbed it into Jim's arm causing another flurry of curses to ring out. The world broke apart before him, morphing into shapes and shadows and before it pulled him back under, he felt the same warmth wrap around his hand, a whisper in his mind.

"_I am here, T'hy'la."_

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Busy, busy week and exhausted from taking care of my son and my niece all day every day (4 months and 3 months). I'll try to update quickly! Thanks for reading and please don't forget to review!**


	5. Chapter Five: Time Travel Woes

**WARNING: This chapter contains language.**

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Time Travel Woes**

* * *

"_Your father was the Captain for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including yours."_

"_You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk. A Captain cannot cheat death."_

"_He proudly lived to see you become Captain of the Enterprise."_

"_I have been and always shall be your friend."_

Jim drifted back into consciousness coated in a thick haze, blinking back the brightness of the room as the blips of the machinery filtered through his muffled hearing, inhaling the familiar aroma of clean air and antiseptics. He was in Sickbay, fantastic. He groggily glanced around until his sight focused on a bleary outline of a blue dress. Whoever it was had a nice hourglass figure and delicate fingers as she scribbled on a PADD beside the biobed. Her blond hair shimmered in the light; her eyes trained upwards, eyebrows furrowed as she focused.

He couldn't deny how beautiful she was even for a much older woman. Of course he had only briefly seen the nurses in his own Sickbay, but he felt she was more beautiful than any of them. And through his fuzzy mind, he felt the sudden urge to enlighten her to that fact.

"You're the most beautiful person in all of the universe, you know that?" He mumbled giddily, words slurring and she quickly glanced down to him.

"Excuse me?" She inquired, a puzzled look crossing her features.

It was adorable how she didn't know her own beauty. She was kind of cute, especially the way her hair was swept up, an innocent look on her face. She reminded him of a girl in the storybook his mother had read to him when he was just a boy where she accidentally stumbled upon the house owned by three bears. Maybe that was her true identity and they really weren't in Sickbay, maybe they were in the house instead.

"Where are the bears? Won't they get mad that we're here?" He slurred as he fought the heaviness of his eyes, the grogginess rolling over his body in waves.

There was a short silence before her laugh filtered through the air. He blinked up at her, bemused by her strange outburst of amusement over his question. He _was_ serious.

"Doctor McCoy!" She called, "You'd better get in here!" Her voice was heavily coated with mirth.

_McCoy? _

Why did that sound so familiar?

_McCoy…sounds a lot like soy. _He issued a lopsided grin as a weak giggle escaped him. _Soy sauce…McCoy sauce!_

"Is everything all right, Chapel?" The man grumbled, hustling into the room and stopped abruptly, an eyebrow arching as she beamed at him. "What's going on?"

"Hey." Jim said weakly and the doctor glanced down at him questionably, "D-did you know that you're a sauce?"

The nurse quickly covered her mouth as she succumbed to another fit of laughter. The doctor's mouth twitched at the sides, the worry melting away from his face.

"Guess I shouldn't have given him that high of a dose." He mumbled, chuckling before bending over Jim. "How do you feel?"

Jim mulled over the question, the wheels in his brain sluggishly turning, issuing another lopsided grin as the answer came to light.

"I feel like I want pancakes."

"Pancakes?" The doctor asked incredulously, his grin widening.

"Yeah, but don't let the bears eat it." Jim whispered, his eyes drooping steadily.

The doctor shook his head before straightening himself, glancing at the nurse who was desperately attempting to compose herself.

"He's really out of it." Chapel choked back a laugh, eyes glittering with tears.

"Extremely." He agreed, "Jim wanted me to inform him the minute he became conscious, but I think we should wait a little longer for him to be a bit more coherent." Bones muttered to her, eying Jim curiously, the grin never wavering. His hand reached out, patting Jim's shoulder lightly, "Why don't you go back to sleep for a while, kid?"

Jim blinked at the doctor, letting the suggestion seep in. Giving him a clumsy smile, he giddily replied with an "okie dokie", then allowed the heaviness of his body to suck him back into a deep slumber.

* * *

The next time he came around, the grogginess had lifted. He released a loud breath before prying his eyes open, blinking back the light again. There was a swish of cloth as someone quickly stood from the chair they had been perched on beside the bed. The stoic face of the older Vulcan suddenly loomed in his vision and he jerked in surprise. He hadn't expected to see him. If anything, he expected it all to have been a dream and to be waking back up in his own Sickbay with Bones scolding him for acting completely moronic.

"Forgive me for startling you. The Doctor instructed that I ascertain your status whilst he is attending to another patient."

Jim stared at him warily. He still wasn't quite sure where he was and what exactly had happened.

The Vulcan frowned slightly, "Have you not regained coherency?"

Jim swallowed before shaking his head, "I have." He glanced away, nervously.

"I see. Then I shall alert the Doctor."

Jim listened to his footsteps as he left the private room. The only noise remaining was that of the heart monitor and it made Jim extremely uncomfortable. God, he hated Sickbay, and even worse, he hated being in a Sickbay that wasn't his with older versions of people he knew...well not completely since they were altered slightly. He sighed heavily, his body still partially numb, unable to allow him to attempt an escape. He could barely turn his head; a bandage was wrapped stiffly around his throat, only giving him the option of staring straight up at the flat surface of the ceiling and that was extremely boring.

Feeling like an eternity had passed by, the door to the room finally hissed open and three men filed inside. Jim watched as Bones approached him, scanning his face for a scar but failing to find one. That had to be a good sign, right? The old man leaned over him again, pulling the covers down to his waist to examine his wounds.

"Are you in pain?" He asked tentatively.

Jim ignored him, attempting to keep his sight set on the ceiling.

"Kid, I'm a doctor not a mind reader. If you're in pain, I can fix that." He groused.

There was a nervous energy to the room and it ate at Jim's nerves. He swallowed before he hoarsely whispered, "I'm fine."

The doctor rolled his eyes before finishing his examination quickly, replacing the blanket back over his exposed torso.

"Well, everything seems to be healing well. You should be back on your feet in a few days."

Jim only nodded. Usually he'd argue the fact he had to be stuck in Sickbay, but right now he was in unfamiliar territory with a Bones who wasn't _his _Bones.

Bones cleared his throat, glancing up to the other two who stood silently on the other side of the biobed before returning his attention to Jim. "How did you wind up in that universe?"

Jim was floored by the blunt question. He was just like his own Bones, straight to the point. He turned his head as far as it was allowed to go due to the bandaging and glared at Spock. The Vulcan didn't react, merely watched him with impassive eyes.

"Are you and James Kirk friends in this universe?" Jim inquired a little more viciously than he had intended.

The eyebrows of the captain standing beside Spock hiked up in surprise as he glanced towards the Vulcan, awaiting his answer as well. Spock's eyebrow arched as his eyes darted between him and the Jim that stood beside him.

"We have indeed reached that social status."

A strange emotion passed over the captain's face and Jim couldn't help but observe him curiously for a moment. Clearly, this captain was not the same as the one who took pride in torturing him. His eyes soft, his face free of malice, a type of innocence displayed on his features.

Jim nodded, "Then…he really _was _you then. This…this is where he came from." He mumbled, glancing away from all of them, returning his attention to the smooth ceiling. "But why did he…?" He trailed off at the small sting of betrayal. If this Spock had really cared for him, why did he send him to a universe where he had almost perished? Why hadn't he materialized with the Scottish engineer aboard his own _Enterprise_?

"Jim." McCoy's voice cut through his thoughts and Jim glanced at him only to find he was really addressing the captain. "He's not making any sense. Maybe we should wait on this."

The captain eyes fleeted from Bones down to Jim, scrutinizing him for a moment. "We…we want to help you." He said gently, a pleading in his voice.

Jim turned his attention back to him, suspicion overriding his urge to trust him, "Why?"

The captain deflated a little, shooting desperate glances towards Spock who took the hint that it was up to him to elaborate.

"You are an anomaly within this space-time and have an obligation to return to your designated port of origin." His said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Jim shot him an indignant glare.

"Funny you should say that when it's _your _fault I'm here to begin with." He snapped and the Vulcan's eyes widened marginally for a moment.

"I do not understand."

Jim snorted, "Well that makes two of us."

The eyebrow arched again and the action only irritated Jim further.

"What do you mean?" The captain interjected, puzzled.

Jim sighed before recounting the events leading up to his arrival on the _ISS Enterprise_, and as he explained meeting the elder Spock, Spock's body stiffened, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared intently at a distant focal point.

"He said that he had been and always shall be my friend but if that were true, why'd he send me to that God forsaken place?" He growled, his fist clenching with rage.

There was a pregnant silence as they processed the information.

Bones let out an exasperated huff, "Wait, so you're telling us that the green-blooded elf over there," he pointed at Spock who still stared off distantly, "was transported through time in the future and arrived in an alternate universe that inadvertently changed _your _destiny. Then beamed you to the parallel universe adjoining ours where Spock and I were accidentally transported to and found you?"

Jim shrugged and cringed as pain shot through him, the medication wearing off again.

"I _would_ say you've lost your damn mind if you didn't resemble _him_ so much!" Bones exclaimed, waving his arm in the direction of the captain, eyes widening with emphasis.

"You've always had such an amazing amount of faith in me, Bones." Jim chuckled before quickly reminding himself that this wasn't _his _Bones.

Spock suddenly snapped back from the trance he had been engrossed in, pivoting on his heel before abruptly exiting the room without another word, leaving the rest of them staring after him, baffled.

"I wonder what crawled up his ass all of a sudden." Bones grumbled to himself, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Bones." The Captain said softly, jerking his head towards the door.

The doctor sighed, glancing over Jim with a small scowl, "I know how _this _Jim is with Sickbay and I assume you share a similar _fondness _of it as well. I'm going to inform Chapel to keep a keen eye on you, so don't go getting any ideas." His eye widened again in emphasis.

Jim grinned, "No promises."

His quip elicited a response from the captain, a small smile playing on the older man's lips. It was a strange sight after encountering the polar opposite for a large period of time.

Bones shook his head, eyes averting away from Jim toward the captain, a small smirk growing on the doctor's face.

"It's like looking in a goddamn mirror for you, isn't it?"

* * *

Jim didn't quite recall when he had drifted off to sleep again, but the hiss of the door startled him enough to jerk him awake. His natural defensive instincts kicking in as he attempted to bolt up from the bed, only to immediately regret it as a shooting pain caused him to crumple forward, clutching at his midsection as he took desperate deep breaths. Beads of sweat coated his brow and he became quickly aware of the fever running through his body, the heat flaring over him in waves.

Distracted with the pain, it had taken him a moment to discover a hand grasping his arm. He glanced up to find it belonged to the person he severely desired not to be around at the moment and yanked it away, his heart quickening, panic crawling through him.

An emotion fleeted through the dark eyes, almost softening from Jim's brash response.

"You harbor an immense fear of me." Spock spoke softly, eyes scanning him with concern. "What is the reason behind this reaction?"

Jim shook his head, panting as he fought through the pain. He curled his arms inward until he felt like he was properly shielded from any more unwanted touching. Why _was_ he so afraid? Was it due to the possibility that _this _Spock had deceived him and held a darker intention for sending him to the other universe? Or was it due to the hours spent with the other Vulcan replaying the memories he had long suppressed like a broken record? Then again, his trust issues in the Vulcan had begun long before while he was on trial for the damn Kobayashi Maru, watching him portray such smugness as he fought to have Jim expelled. Then there was the act of marooning him on Delta Vega. Yeah, Spock had definitely earned a place on his shit list by now.

"What do you want?" He murmured, wincing as he inhaled a breath that caused a sharp sting to ring out in his abdomen.

Jim felt the weight of the Vulcan's stare on him, making him shift uncomfortably in the bed and after several minutes of silence, he finally spoke, nearly making Jim jump out of his skin.

"Your animosity is justifiable as you have endured great tribulations within a short span of time. And as I am at fault for your current predicament, I desire to convey my sincerest apologies." His arms slid behind his back, stiffening again.

Jim's jaw locked, tears threatening to spill from his eyes and he quickly shut them, holding them back.

_Calm down, Jim. Even though you don't like the guy, he is apologizing. Remember what happened to his planet, could he be all that bad?_

He hated the small conscious he had developed, the voice damn near sounded like Bones. Fantastic.

"It's alright, Spock." Jim's voice was barely audible. "I…can't fully blame _you _for things you didn't or haven't done yet." He glanced up, tears blurring his vision and he cursed softly, rubbing feverishly at his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry…I just…I don't…"

Strong arms suddenly enveloped him, pulling him into a loose embrace. He stiffened briefly before he let himself melt into it, allowing himself this small relief, to break down and let it go. Even with the knowledge that it was Spock, the person he held little trust for at the moment, he seemed to feel a strong sense of security within his arms.

And strangely, it also felt…right.

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully this helped with the confusion a bit. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	6. Chapter Six: Escape

**WARNING: This chapter will contain graphic violence and language.**

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Escape**

* * *

Bones, well, at least _his _Bones would never be so trusting. He'd be hovering, fussing over him like a mother hen—an extremely disgruntled, foul-mouthed mother hen—while he was trapped in Sickbay. It proved challenging to duck under his radar once the doctor had his hooks in him, and he'd promptly be subjected to an inevitable reprimanding which usually included an exasperated quip pertaining to his mental health.

_This _Bones, however, was more lenient in comparison. Hovering for a brief amount of time before shuffling off to his office or to the bridge; leaving Jim alone with an almost absentee nurse. Either he was confident Jim lacked the ability to flee or he was that naïve to his will.

After two days bedridden, Jim had enough.

Sliding from the bed, he quickly shut off the machinery before it could announce his escape. He had waited patiently; listening for Bones to announce he was heading to the bridge and the nurse to inform him she was heading to grab lunch.

It was now or never.

Jim leaned momentarily against the biobed to regain his bearings before padding from the room, shedding the Sickbay garments and pulling on the black fatigues that were held in the medical storage compartment on the shelf before stealthily maneuvering his way through Sickbay. His injuries were nearly healed, only a dull ache was present in his body, which was a reassuring sign that he was able to attempt the mission at hand. Jim slid from around the entrance, assessing the hallway before promptly sauntering down the corridor.

The Ensign who was bent over, assessing the wiring within the wall hardly noticed as he passed him by on the way to the lift. Too engrossed in his work, he didn't feel as Jim gently tugged the phaser from the belt before continuing on his way.

_Too easy._

Jim entered the deserted lift, tensing as it descended, bracing himself to be caught at any given moment. The surge of adrenaline rushed through him, and he smiled, feeling a bit more like himself again and not so much like a butchered piece of meat.

The doors hissed open and he deflated, finding the corridor empty as well.

_It's around lunch time, most likely everyone's at the mess hall._ His mind chimed as he strolled from the lift, the phaser clutched loosely in his grip. He traipsed down the hall, scanning his surroundings carefully for any sign of movement. Rounding a corner, he spotted the entrance to the hangar and picked up speed. The clock was ticking, he knew once Bones or the nurse had returned to Sickbay and found the bed barren, chaos would erupt. And the likelihood of accomplishing his goal would diminish instantaneously.

Aiming the phaser carefully, he fired at the protective covering, freeing it from the wall and granting him access to the keypad underneath. Thankfully his instinctual trade was in overriding and recoding intricate systems. The Kobayashi Maru proved to be a hard nut to crack, but he still managed to convert the program to his advantage. This would be a cake walk.

Ripping the pad from the wall after a couple forceful tugs, his hands dived into the wiring, rerouting their paths, deciphering the code quickly. Gaining access, he quickly pressurized the compartment and jammed the ship's tractor beam frequency before releasing the doors, making a mad dash toward the nearest shuttle. Jim clambered inside, switching on the controls after a few moments of fiddling with more wiring. He quickly released the hangar doors as the shuttle ascended slowly from the ground, his heart pounding in his chest.

"_Galileo II_, come in." A familiar female voice rang over the _comm_. "_Galileo II_, do you read me?"

He ignored it, setting thrusters to full as the hatch opened wide enough for him to disembark. He eased out into the vastness of space, attempting to gain enough distance between the shuttle and the ship.

"_Galileo II_, you do not have authorization, return to the _Enterprise_. Repeat: return to the _Enterprise_."

Jim shifted from the pilot's seat to the co-pilot's, keying in the coordinates and checking the fuel supply. The power generator was fully functional; although the source had the potential of burning out by the time he reached his destination. The shuttle was primarily designed for quick trips on and off planets and where he was headed was quite a distance from his current position. This would be a close call.

He adjusted the life support systems to the lowest setting possible, turning off all functions that weren't completely required at the moment to preserve power.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk. What are your intentions with the _Galileo II_?" The Captain's firm voice blared from the _comm_. Jim didn't answer. "Reveal yourself and why you have stolen this shuttle."

Jim turned it off, closing down all further communication. He didn't trust them to help him. He couldn't trust anyone. This dilemma had to be dealt with without aid.

The shuttle was capable of attaining warp two, and he quickly set the controls to the speed. It would take a few hours, but it was a possibility he'd reach it.

_Delta Vega_.

Since this universe was relatively the same, only in a more futuristic setting, he was almost certain the post would still be present. He could possibly contemplate a way to transport himself back to his own realm and escape this nightmare. Maybe, the coordinates to his _Enterprise _could still be recorded in the databanks.

An hour passed and Jim was shocked to find the shuttle did not hold out for the extended time he had predicted. Warp drive draining its power—a thruster overheating, blowing out its engine, forcing him to switch to auxiliary power which would hardly carry him far before the systems would fail. Possibly the shuttles in this time were not as durable as the ones he was accustomed to.

He reached for the scanners, scouting for the nearest planet. If he could recharge the shuttles power and fix the warp engine, he could continue on. If he didn't find a planet he could reach, he'd be stranded, listing helplessly in space.

So he was singing his praises when the scanners picked up a planet and he dove into the memory banks in search of information.

_Ekos_.

_Environmental Readings_: Oxygen, Nitrogen atmosphere. Temperature range: 18.3 – 29.4 Celsius.

Sustainable for Human life.

Perfect.

Readjusting the coordinates, he crawled towards the planet at a painfully slow rate. Remembering the prime directive, he entered the atmosphere without seeking permission from the habitants. He wasn't on a Federation ship; he didn't want them aware of his presence. It would be a quick trip.

He sought a secluded spot, just outside one of the city that registered in his scanners, and landed and sat in silence, staring at the blinking lights of the control board. A small amount of remorse crept through him. Should he have done that?

_No, they were trying to help you._

He shook his head; he didn't have the time to think about this now. Smashing his hand over the button to release the doors, he was startled to find a large group of men crowding around the shuttle in twentieth century Nazi Terran uniforms, pistols trained on his form. Jim pointed his phaser in retaliation and the men straightened and took a daunting step forward, clearly indicating hostility.

"Put down your weapon, Zeon _pig_, and step away from the contraption!" The man nearest to him shouted and Jim narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not a Zeon." He stated flatly, firmly rooted to the spot.

"That's what they all say." The man growled. "Put down your weapon now!"

Jim remained silent, glaring down the barrel of the phaser.

"Put it down!"

_Bang._

A pained sound escaped him as the bullet pierced his shoulder. He fired, stunning the man before flipping back inside the shuttle as gunfire pounded the metal. His hand rounded the entryway, taking out another man before a bullet grazed his hand, cursing as he quickly retracted it. So caught up with his grand scheme, he hadn't contemplated the possibility of being stranded on a hostile planet.

The firing abruptly halted before the group charged into the shuttle. He took down two more before they were on him, shoving him onto the floor, kicking the phaser from his hand with such force he felt something snap, a sharp pain ringing up his arm. Yanking his arms behind his back, metal handcuffs were latched painfully around his wrists. A hand snaked its way through his hair, roughly pulling him to his knees, eliciting another pained sound from him.

"On your feet, pig!"

Hands gripped his arms, and he scrambled to his feet. Once he regained his footing, a fist struck his jaw. His head rocked to the side from the blow before he was roughly pushed forward through the shuttle door. The world spun as he was man handled into the back of a vehicle. Something cracked over the back of his head, seeing stars momentarily before the world went dark.

* * *

When he came to, he quickly noticed he was lying on a hard mattress, surrounded by grey walls. A single light hung overhead, casting a dim light and he sluggishly surveyed his surroundings. Metal bars enclosed the small space and instantly realized he was in a cell. Jim groaned. The subtle throbbing at the back of his skull intensified as he breached the invisible wall into full consciousness. Spikes of sharp pain rang through his shoulder and hand. The shoulder was carelessly patched with gauze while his hands were still bound behind him and he rolled over onto his side to ease the pain.

_Way to go, Jim. You escaped to only to be captured again._

There was a sudden shifting, a swish of cloth.

"You don't look like a Zeon."

Jim glanced up to see a man around his age in the adjacent cell, gripping the bars, scrutinizing him curiously.

"That's because I'm not." Jim stated, using his legs to scoot down the bed until he hit the wall, using it as leverage as he struggled into a sitting position.

"Then why are they treating you like the enemy?" He inquired, eyes narrowing.

Jim sighed heavily.

"Wish I knew." He paused, "Well, I did stun a few. That might have pissed them off a bit." He muttered, twisting his uninjured hand in the cuff, testing its strength. "So, what's their problem anyway? Why do they hate Zeons?"

The man issued a non-committal shrug.

"I'm not quite sure. We're a race that prohibits violence and war. However, watching my people be tortured and murdered today, I would seriously reconsider it." His tone darkened, hands clutching the bars tighter.

Jim nodded solemnly and winced at the pain in his head.

"I can't say I blame you for feeling that way."

The man nodded as his eyes downcast.

"So, who are you?" Jim asked, fingers tracing along the cool metal of the cuffs.

"Isak, and you?"

"Jim."

"Good to know you."

Jim snorted, "You too, just wish it was under better circumstances."

A loud squeak echoed against the walls as the door to the prison opened. The man who had demanded him to lower his weapon and shot him entered with two other men at his side. He approached Jim's cell, glaring.

"We have detained two other Zeon prisoners who claim they _know _you." He growled, "What is your purpose? Are you a spy?"

Jim's eyebrows hiked curiously.

_Could it be…?_

"No, I'm not a Zeon anything."

"Lies!" The man barked, glancing back to the two men, jerking his head slightly. The men rounded him, unlocking the cellar door before marching inside. "No matter, we have ways of making you talk."

He didn't like the sound of that.

"He's telling the truth!" Isak shouted and was instantly silenced as a guard rapped his baton hard against the fingers gripping the bars, eliciting a small whimper of pain.

"We'll deal with _you _later, _pig_." The man spat. "Bring him." He stated towards the other two guards in the cell.

Jim was once again man handled—which he detested, and was shoved forcefully out of the cell, their pistols aimed at his back. There were only two reasons they would desire to escort him from the prison. Either A: Bring him to dinner, or B: Torture and possibly execute him.

Jim was pretty certain he wouldn't be receiving any replicated grilled chicken.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, hardly any of the characters in this chapter (my apologies!). But thank you for reading anyway, and please review!**


	7. Chapter Seven: Here A Jim, There A Jim

**A/N: Poor Jim is like a confused lost puppy, things just keep happening to him, but there's a reason for all of it—I promise. TOS Spock is a bit bolder when it comes to certain…things. Then again, he has spent years with his own Jim. **

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Here A Jim, There A Jim**

* * *

The crack of the whip echoed loudly, stinging against his back as he was struck. He cringed, arms reflexively shifting, causing a sharp pain to spike through his shoulders. The shoulder that had been shot throbbed immensely, his hands aching in the shackles that were bound above his head. His torso exposed once they had divested him of his shirt, perspiration coating his skin in a thin, sticky layer. The flesh of his back was raw, trickles of blood dribbled as the whip cut into it again, eliciting a pained sound from his lips.

The assaults paused, "Are you willing to speak now, _pig_?"

Jim gritted his teeth, panting as he replied, "I've already told you, I'm not a Zeon, or a spy."

"Quit spouting falsehoods! We know you are just by looking at your _friend _over there." He spat.

He strained to glance over his shoulder at the Vulcan. Spock's hands were also bound in shackles and were attached to the wall, straining against the chains as far as their limits would allow him, eyes trained on Jim. The man had told him there were two people who had been captured, yet all he saw was Spock. Who was the other?

"If you won't talk, we'll just have to ask _him_." The man threatened, slapping the whip against his leg.

Jim snorted, "Like you'd get much from him, considering you've already tortured him to get information, right?" He grinned when the man stilled at his words, "I'm just your last resort."

"Shut your mouth!" He shouted, striking Jim's back again and he cried out, feeling the skin split at the contact.

"That's enough." A voice boomed and Jim craned his neck again to catch a glimpse of the man.

Jim's assailant quickly saluted, "Chairman Eneg, sir."

"At ease." He replied, fleetingly glancing at Spock before approaching Jim, scrutinizing him with a curious stare. "I don't know who you are, but resistance will get you nowhere." He stated, leaning uncomfortably close to his face.

Jim chuckled and was instantly silenced as the chairman drove his fist into his abdomen, hacking violently.

"Lieutenant." Eneg announced, "Leave them be for an hour, let their wounds drive them into madness. If they do not comply after their allotted time is finished…execute them."

"Yes, sir!"

The footfalls of boots maneuvered away from Jim towards the dim room's entryway.

"You have one hour to comply." Eneg reminded before the metal door squealed, slamming shut.

Jim groaned, the cool air biting at his exposed skin, attempting to shift to a comfortable position and failing miserably as another spike of pain erupted through him.

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath, "How the hell are we supposed to get out of this?"

"Jim." He stilled at the soft tone of Spock's voice, "Are you all right?"

Rolling his eyes he replied, "Yeah, I'm fantastic, thanks for asking." He said bitterly, pulling at the chain to test its durability.

There was a pause before he replied, "Why did you flee?"

He craned his neck again; the Vulcan's stance had relaxed, no longer straining against the chains, eyes scanning Jim with a peculiar expression.

Jim sighed, "I needed to do this myself."

The Vulcan ticked his head slightly, an eyebrow arching, "May I inquire your reason?"

"I couldn't trust you." Jim's head whipped back around, eyes downcast, "I couldn't trust any of you."

A silence filtered through the space between them, jerking slightly when Spock finally spoke again.

"Who has forcefully entered your conscious?"

Jim paused, his breath hitching slightly, "What are you talking about?"

"Who was the culprit who infiltrated your mind? Was it my counterpart of the other universe or was it myself when we were acquainted in yours?" He inquired, voice low, husky.

A sturdy lump formed in his throat.

"A little of both." He stated meekly, "More so the one before you found me." Why was he admitting to this so easily? He swallowed thickly, anxiously awaiting a response. When none came he craned his head to find Spock was facing away from him, fiddling with his shackles diligently. "What are you doing?"

"These shackles appear to have a ratchet mechanism, if I am able to slide a thin piece inside as a wedge, I will be able to release them." Spock glanced around before locating the desired item, plunging it deep into the cuff. There was a small click before the cuff fell away, relinquishing his wrist.

Jim looked away as Spock managed to release the other cuff, soft footsteps approached him, and a heated hand gently grasped his forearm. He quietly listened to the even breaths, feeling the heat of the Vulcan's body radiating from beside him. The cuffs clicked and he slid from their hold, stumbling backwards into Spock, hissing as his back brushed against the Vulcan's torso. Hands clasped around his arms to steady him, warm breaths tickling the nape of his neck. The skin contact sent a small electrical shock through him, heart rate spiking, and heat leaked into his face.

"Uh…c'mon let's find a way out of here." Jim mumbled, pushing away from the Vulcan, averting his gaze as he attempted to maneuver around him, only to have one of his wrists captured, bringing him to an abrupt halt.

"Jim."

His heart thudded against his chest.

"What is it?" He muttered keeping his eyes averted.

Spock fluently stepped in front of him, hand still clutched around Jim's wrist as his other came into view, grasping his chin to gently guide his head up. His eyes connected with the dark depths of Spock's and he gasped as they bored into his, emitting a deep emotion that Jim could not place.

"Spock?" He breathed, captivated by the chocolate irises.

The hand at his chin slid up his jawline, cupping his cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing his flushed skin gingerly.

"Forgive me, _T'hy'la_, for all that has befallen you."

Jim was about to inquire to what the hell he was talking about when suddenly he bridged the gap between them, heated lips connecting with his. The kiss was soft, tender, one Jim had never experienced before through the countless one-night stands. He stood rigid, bemused and stunned by the sudden action. A voice screamed in the back of his head to move away, that this was _Spock _kissing him, but his body refused to respond. Caught between wondering why it was happening and—not wanting to admit it—possibly enjoying it, he allowed the Vulcan to linger, almost missing the sensation once they pulled away.

"You are my _T'hy'la_ regardless of which universe. I will endeavor to ensure your safety." He whispered against Jim's lips before leaning away, pivoting and striding towards the metal door.

Jim stared after him, stunned, before muffled voices snapped him from his trance. Apparently, the Ekosians weren't ones to keep their word. Spock ducked toward the corner and Jim quickly snapped into action, pushing the current event to the back of his mind, logging it away for later as he positioned himself beside the other side of the door. He exchanged a glance with the Vulcan, a quiet understanding as the door was wrenched open, the soldier who had assaulted him early traipsed through and he jumped him.

The man released a startled cry as they began to wrestle, cringing as his injured hand smacked against the man's arm, relief rushing through him as the familiar pale hand snaked around the man's neck, stilling before he dropping with a loud thud onto the floor. Jim nodded toward the Vulcan before bending, clumsily divesting the man of his uniform.

"May I inquire to the reason for stealing his uniform?"

"Didn't you beam down with someone?" Jim muttered, slipping his injured arm gingerly through the sleeve, gasping at the stinging pain from the cloth brushing against his wounds before hastily buttoning it, placing the helmet over his head. "If we want to maneuver through the building without resistance, we need disguises."

"I see." He replied, bending down the second soldier who had filtered through the door whom he had taken out before aiding Jim, divesting him of his uniform as well.

"Who did you beam down with?" Jim inquired curiously, slipping the man's pants over his own.

"The Captain."

Jim paused, the Vulcan's previous words whirling in his head. "Why?" He asked tentatively, placing the belt around his waist and fumbling with the old fashioned pistol.

"He claimed your safety fell under his required responsibilities."

"Alright." He released an audible breathe, "They probably have him stowed away in the prison, unless he's already escaped." He stood, adjusting the helmet as Spock completed dressing in the other man's uniform.

"Indeed."

Jim smirked, "If we're anything alike, I'm sure he already has."

Just as he had predicted, the cells were empty. Jim turned to address the Vulcan who scrutinized him curiously.

"Alright, here's the new plan. Obviously, whatever is happening on this planet is identical to that of _World War II_ on Earth, and they had to have been given this information somehow. I say, we locate our confiscated phasers and communicators, then find the man in charge to attempt to stop this." Jim stated breathlessly, "We'll probably bump into the Captain at some point."

Spock nodded and Jim gave him a quizzical glance. Normally, his Spock would quickly interject, second guessing him and blatantly undermining his suggestions. Thus the reason he ended up on Delta Vega to begin with.

He cleared his throat, "Let's move."

They scurried from the prison, marching over back to the main building—Jim was sure they had their communicators and phasers were locked away in one of the rooms. As they maneuvered across the street, a loud siren rang out, causing Jim to come to an abrupt halt.

A large screen on the side of the building flickered to life, revealing a man perched at a desk and Jim squinted at the screen.

The man was familiar.

"_It's a glorious day on Ekos. Today, we will defeat and wipe out the Zeon poison that has infiltrated our world. At 1300 hours, we will begin mass liquidation and send our newest weaponry to the planet Zeon."_

Footage of the massive missile replaced the man and Jim jerked. The location was roughly in the same area where the shuttle had landed. He quickly glanced around, seeking out a clock and located one hanging above a white building off in the distance:

_12:23_

That didn't give them much time.

"_All hail the Fuhrer." _

The transmission cut and Jim took off, b-lining it away from the main building down the street. They didn't have enough time to retrieve their phasers—they had pistols, which would have to do.

"Jim?" Spock called, striding up beside him.

Jim shook his head, "We have to get to the entrance of the city, find that missile and disable it."

"Do you believe this is wise? The site will be heavily guarded and we are deprived of communication with the ship."

And _there_ was the Spock he recognized.

"I realize that, Spock." He weaved through the crowds, focused on his goal. "I work a hell of a lot better under stress."

* * *

**A/N: Well…hopefully this was worth the wait. Sorry for the short chapter, and I'm sorry for any mistakes (been super busy with a funeral and other...things) as I am extremely exhausted and can't pinpoint any at the moment and really wanted to update (will probably come back and re-read and correct them). Thank you again my dear readers for sticking with this story and please review!**


	8. Chapter Eight: You're Still In Oz

**A/N: Have I mentioned that I love writing action sequences? Enjoy!**

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: You're Still In Oz  
**

* * *

The streets erupted in loud cheers as armored trucks rolled along the paved streets, hoots and hollers of Ekosians for those who were heading to end the lives of an innocent race ripped through him like a jagged end of a knife. The very idea sent a wave of nausea through him, disgusted by the sounds he was unable to block out. It was clear the planet had obtained the records of _WWII_, and Jim was placing all bets the culprits were Starfleet.

They were notorious for fucking up every now and then.

He pumped his legs, weaving through the individuals aligned on the streets. Damn, they were making things difficult. Confetti floated from the higher buildings, nearly hindering his ability to see the tree line ghosting over the walls of the city in the distance. At this rate, they wouldn't make it. He skidded to a halt, glancing back to address the Vulcan when he paused—eyes darting around frantically, searching.

Where was Spock?

"Dammit!" He cursed.

_When did I lose him?_

Jim had been positive the older Vulcan had been trailing him, never second guessing that he was capable of sneaking off. Then again, he didn't know the man all that well, and from what he vaguely learned of his own Spock was the Vulcan was incredibly cunning—basing his actions completely on his own logical thought process, especially while attempting to convince others of Jim's misconduct. But damn, could the guy at least give him a heads up first?

Shaking his head vigorously, he proceeded through the crowds, pushing the thoughts of Spock's whereabouts to the back of his mind. He didn't have time to dawdle around in hopes to find him. And even then, why did he even _want _to find him?

Passing another building, he briefly glimpsed the chronometer perched in the window:

12:43

He cursed again, exactly how big _was_ this city?

Finally breaking free of the crowds, the sight of the entrance came into view, only meters away and he bolted. The leather of the booths slapped the pavement as he ran, his body protesting with each step. The pain shot through him, but he pushed through it, ignoring the persistence burning and stinging sensations. As he arrived at the gate, he quickly registered the two guards stationed at attention—rifles nestled in the crevice between their arm and torso. At Jim's approach, both men shifted their position, training the guns on his frame, staring down the barrels intently.

"Halt! Identify yourself!"

Jim reached for the pistol and gasped as a sharp pain rang out in his injured hand. Grasping at it with the other one, the guards quickly registered his attempted intentions and fired. A sting rang out on his left cheek while the other bullet sunk deep into the flesh of his upper left arm. He hissed, stumbling slightly. Damn that hurt, but they hadn't hit anything vital. Apparently, they weren't completely skilled at shooting mobile targets.

Jim's uninjured hand yanked the pistol from the belt and quickly shot the two men, relief flooding over him as they toppled to the ground. He hastily stepped over their fallen forms, allowing him full access to the gate.

And of course, it was secured with an old fashioned lock.

Jim did _not _have time for this.

Aiming the pistol, his non-dominate hand awkwardly squeezed the trigger, seeing a small spark ignite the metal lock briefly that caused it to sway slightly. Cursing again, he re-aimed, fired and released a breath as the lock dropped to the ground with a loud clang. Without a second glance, he charged through the gate and into the foliage.

As he dodged trees and leapt over what he assumed were bushes, he could feel the jacket of the uniform dampen, blood seeping through the fabric from the wound in his arm. The gash on his cheek trickled with the dark blood as well, it tickled his skin as it trailed down his flushed flesh, curving under his jawline. He only assumed the back of the jacket had also soaked with blood as it clung uncomfortably at his back, causing him to hiss with pain with each movement.

Rounding a group of trees, he skidded to halt as he came upon a small clearing—the missile placed conspicuously near the center, steam billowing from the tail. Creeping around the perimeter, he studied the soldiers stationed at the site as they bustled about in preparation.

The control panel was placed off toward the tree line closest to Jim—manned by two guards who were thoroughly engrossed with their work, muttering to each other as they diligently pressed buttons and turned dials. He crouched low, watching the two men cautiously, acknowledging that he would need access to the controls to calibrate the coordinates—a designated target already set in his mind.

Jim glanced away from them toward the missile—a tiny metal ramp was placed beside it, high enough for Jim to dissect it and sabotage the fuel pumps. However, as he anticipated, the ramp was also surrounded by guards—seven of them.

_Damn._

Outnumbered and out-gunned.

Unlatching the chamber of the pistol, he counted the bullets.

There were only two left.

_Fuck._

A loud whine jarred him. Closing the chamber until it clicked, he glanced up as a loud roar erupted through the space, a gust of wind brushing his face as the warhead ignited.

It was definitely too late for the dissect-the-missile-and-save-the-world plan.

"We have ignition!"

It was now or never.

Jim sprung from the foliage, ambushing the two men at the controls, hitting the butt of the gun over the back of one man's head before pistol whipping the other man across the face, blood spraying from the impact. Both men clipped the metal control box with their skulls before collapsing onto the ground. Rotating in time to see the five men near the warhead charging toward him, he ducked down as one open fired, the bullet zooming overhead and into the trees beyond.

There were more shots fired, but strangely they emanated from the other side of the clearing. Cries of pain rang out as others shouted angrily, returning fire. Jim peeked around the corner of his bulky metal shield, catching a quick glimpse of two men dodging behind a thick trunk to avoid the barrage of bullets as they impaled the wood.

_Was that…?_

Black dots erupted into his vision as he shakily straightened, attacking the board as the other soldiers were preoccupied. His uninjured hand trembled as he fiddled with the controls, attempting to access the code while his fingers smeared the blood that had dripped down his arm and over his hand from the bullet wound onto the panel. He blinked rapidly as the black dots multiplied, hindering his ability to see—heart pounding in his head as he noticed the subtle neon red timer ticking down the seconds.

_-:15_

_-:14_

_-:13_

"Jim!" A baritone voice called, hearing the rustle of cloth as he approached. A beep sounded on the panel as he accessed the code, just as the dots stole the remainder of his sight.

"Dammit, I-I can't see!" Jim cursed, "Key in the coordinates where the _Enterprise _is positioned." He demanded.

"Jim—"

"No time, do it!" He shouted over the gunfire.

Only a moment later, he heard the blaring blast and felt another gust of wind knock into him that caused him to stumble sideways into the man as the warhead took off. Two hands grasped onto him, eliciting a cry of pain as the hand clamped onto his injured arm. He felt himself be gently maneuvered onto the ground as the wind died, the hand still pressing firmly on his wound.

Through his ruined vision, he deciphered with very limited detail the man above him was Spock.

_Of course it is. Who else would it have been?_

The gunfire died down and there were new desperate shouts. The Vulcan ignored them, warm fingers gingerly brushing against the blood sticking to Jim's face.

"How were you aware we had established contact with the ship and determined this course of action?" He inquired evenly.

Jim's eyes fluttered closed, the world was spinning beneath him as the adrenaline ebbed.

"I wasn't." He muttered.

The last he recalled were the strength of the arms that gathered him against a heated body.

* * *

"Jim."

Jim groaned, shifting his head slightly.

"Jim."

Jim's eyes slit, a bleary face loomed in his vision.

"Am I back home?" He croaked.

"Sorry, Dorothy, you're still in Oz." The southern drawl replied and he moaned. That only meant one thing.

He was back in Sickbay. The sickbay with the middle aged Bones. He was still trapped in the alternate universe.

"What hap—?"

"You did it, kid. The _Enterprise _destroyed the warhead, and both Spock and Jim managed to stop the mass genocide. Apparently, John Gill accidentally slipped the damn information to the habitants while he was stationed on the planet."

Jim blinked, vision clearing slightly, "Gill?"

That name sounded familiar, why couldn't he place it?

"Yeah, and don't be alarmed if you can't move. Don't need you attempting another _daring_ escape, especially when you always come back here like _this_. Just rest, alright?"

* * *

Jim was grateful he healed quicker than he had previously, although any amount of time spent in Sickbay was enough to drive him insane—especially having security detail guarding the room from the outside, guaranteeing his stay.

He sat in the biobed after changing from the Sickbay garments, arms folded over his chest awkwardly due to the cast on his hand—fractured to hell but not broken. McCoy claimed the cast would help keep him situated and hinder any other chance he might've had for escape, especially after the captain increased security at the hangar and transporter room.

Damn them.

He glared as the doors swished open—the doctor and the Vulcan filed inside.

He was getting real tired of being the only one stuck here.

"Good news." McCoy grinned wryly, "I'm releasing you."

"And the bad news?" Jim asked dryly.

"Well, Jim feels it'd be best if you refrained from roaming the ship—might stir up a scandal that we can't handle at the moment. So the elf here's going to escort you to your quarters."

Jim paused, pinning them both with an indignant glare, "You mean he'll escort me to _his _quarters so he can _babysit _me and make sure I don't do anything s_tupid_." Jim amended.

"Toh-may-toe, toh-mah-toe." The grin expanded.

Damn it, this Bones was just as irritating.

Jim sighed, at least he was escaping Sickbay—and the choice was a bit more preferable over the brig. And he admitted, after enduring as much as he had—he was tired. Too tired to protest.

"Remind me _why _exactly you're my _friend_ again?"

"Well, if I were to take a guess, I'd say I was a saint."

Jim snorted incredulously, "Jesus, you're just like him. How can you be a pain in my ass even in different universes?"

McCoy's eyebrow hiked slightly, amusement gleaming in his cerulean eyes, "Well, I wouldn't know anything about the McCoy you're familiar with, but if I'm a lot like him, then I'd say it's probably more _you _than _us_."

"Bite me, old man." He spat.

"I won't, but somebody _might_."

Jim felt heat creep into his face as he averted his eyes, avoiding direct eye contact with the Vulcan.

The Vulcan who was _Spock_.

The Vulcan who was _Spock_ and had _kissed _him.

Yeah, he hadn't forgotten that.

"Doctor, if you are quite finished with your tedious banter, I will need to escort him to my quarters so I may promptly return to my duties."

"You're that eager, eh, Spock? What would _Jim _think?" McCoy's voice oozed amusement.

Jim glanced up to find Spock staring intently at the wall, a faint green hue tinting the tips of his ears. Was he missing something?

"Anyway, kid, you're free to go. And I don't want to see you back here for a while. And don't go getting into trouble—already have one damn Jim to worry about, I don't need two!" He chided, eyes widening with emphasis.

Jim rolled his eyes, "Yeah, okay, whatever you say, _mom_."

Bones laughed, folding his arms over his chest, he replied, "Sometimes, you make me believe I am, Jim. Now get out of here before I _change _my mind."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading and please review!**


	9. Chapter Nine: T'hy'la

**A/N: Kirk and TOS Spock moments abound! A lot of hurt/comfort in this chapter. **

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: T'hy'la**

* * *

The walk to the Vulcan's quarters was anything but comfortable. It was draped with a heavy silence—noticing out of his peripheral vision as he'd periodically glance at Jim, inclining his head slightly as though he were about to address him but thought better of it. The accidental brush of their arms caused Jim to shrink back, allowing him to stride in front of him as he trailed at a leisurely pace.

Now that he was no longer required to focus on impending doom and missile wielding second-rate Nazis, his mind refocused on the subject of the kiss and how the Vulcan has been—if it were at all possible—tender with him since he was found aboard the _ISS Enterprise_. He felt an odd combination of emotion flooding over him—mostly anger with a huge desire to deck him for the unanticipated kiss, even with the knowledge that the action may cause his uninjured hand to break.

Still, the Vulcan had saved him…twice.

Damn it, he'd never been more confused in his life.

"Is this the place?" Jim mentally slapped himself for asking an obvious question as they came to an abrupt halt at the strange painted door—that was certainly different. The Vulcan inclined his head slightly, an eyebrow arching as Jim bit his bottom lip, fighting the heat creeping into his face. "Of course it is, sorry that was stupid." He mumbled.

Spock nodded curtly, eyes ghosting over him briefly before keying in the access code. Jim was silently grateful for his lack of response as the door hissed open. Not waiting for permission, he strolled inside, staggering as he breached an invisible barrier of heat—perspiration already gathering upon his brow.

"My apologies for the lapse in memory of the significant temperature difference that Humans require. I will adjust the setting to be more satisfactory for you." He stated as he maneuvered around Jim and into the main living quarters.

"Uh, yeah…why is it so hot?" He suppressed a frustrated growl.

_Way to ask another dumb question. The guy's going to think you're an imbecile. _

Bones would have a hay day if he were here.

He shuffled into the room, spying the desk at the corner and marveling at the strange works of art and other décor that littered the walls. Strange, he never pictured the Vulcan to find decorations to be logical.

With his broad back facing Jim he replied evenly, "Vulcan's temperatures range higher than those of Earth, it is preferable." Pivoting on his heal, he regarded Jim with an inquisitive stare, "Were you not educated on xenobiology?"

Jim chuckled sheepishly, left hand rubbing feverishly at the nape of his neck, silently relieved as the temperature of the room lowered to a more tolerant level.

"Uh, well, kind of." The quizzical eyebrow arched again and Jim fidgeted from embarrassment, "I…sort of slept through that class." The second eyebrow rose and Jim sighed, "It was first thing in the morning and I…well…I tended not to get very much sleep beforehand. You know, the ladies just can't get enough of Jim Kirk." He issued a strained smile.

The Vulcan's head ticked to the side, "I see."

"Yeah." Jim colored, averting his eyes as he continued to fidget. Why the hell did he feel like he let Spock down…and why the hell did he care if he did?

"It is curious that you are not captain." Spock continued, "It was unexpected."

"Along with the fact I'm stranded in this time stream?" Jim spat, a bit of vehemence coating his voice. The Vulcan's words stung, feeling as though he hadn't amounted to anything and was once again not living up to the standards his old man had set for him upon his demise.

"Yes." Spock said gently as though he realized he had struck a nerve and needed to tread lightly.

"Well, it's not like I had a say in any of it." Jim huffed, "I'll probably be booted out of Starfleet now anyway, especially after the _Kobayashi Maru_, plus stowing away like I did…well, maybe Pike can pull some strings. I don't know though, Komack has had it in for me and been betting for me to fail—thought I couldn't live up to the gallant sacrifice the old man made, looks like he was right." Jim rambled, nearly forgetting that Spock was still standing there, scrutinizing him with a hardened stare.

"You were…not praised on your exceptional skills by re-simulating the exam?" Spock inquired, taking a small step toward him with arms folded behind his back.

Jim glanced toward him incredulously, "_What_, praise? Hell no! In fact you—well the one of my time—were pissed off to say the least. You tried to get me expelled and it probably would've happened if it weren't for the distress call at that precise moment which placed me instantly on academic suspension." Jim furrowed his eyebrows, "Why? Are you telling that _this_ Jim Kirk did?"

"Yes, his intellect and ability to re-simulate the mechanism was extraordinary. He was not shunned for his actions; rather he was offered a position as a professor prior to his pursuit of command." Spock stated, an undecipherable emotion flickering within the dark depths of his eyes, "It is…unfortunate the Admiralty and my younger counterpart could not appreciate such dexterity."

Jim snorted, crossing his arms as he replied dubiously, "_I _was a _professor_? Get out of here! You've got to be kidding me! I mean, what next, you're going to tell me my father's still alive and a Starfleet figurehead?"

The Vulcan's eyebrows furrowed imperceptibly and Jim stilled.

_No…_

"George Kirk is still alive." Spock stated softly, "However, he has retired."

Jim felt the blood drain from his face.

His father was _alive_ in this universe? This Jim Kirk knew him and didn't endure living with an abusive stepfather? Hell, his mother probably hadn't drank so heavily either as she grieved his loss, seeing him as though he were ghost and not as her son. This Jim Kirk had been rewarded for his skills and was captain.

This Jim Kirk and Spock were friends.

Suddenly, Jim was pissed.

"_WHAT_?" He shouted, hands balling into tight fists. "What the _fuck_? How does this guy get a dream for a life while I'm stuck in a nightmare? What the hell did I do to get the short end of the stick?"

Childish, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Jim."

Jim wasn't listening, he paced the floor feverishly as he ranted, "All I hear about was how _brave _George Kirk was for saving all those lives at the cost of his own. How possibly one day I'd live up to the legacy—I even got persuaded to join Starfleet by being _challenged_ to surpass him. All I hear about is _him_, and it irritates me because I can't say a damn word about anything since I never even met him! And to hear that I was a _professor_ and _captain_ and you and I are_ friends_—when in my reality you _hate _me and it's possible I may no longer even _be _in Starfleet—makes me…makes me…"

Turning, his uninjured fist collided with the wall, eliciting a strangled, frustrated cry as a pain shot through his arm. He stood there seething, flexing his hand as it throbbed immensely.

Warm hands suddenly grasped his shoulders and he jerked himself free of them, "Don't touch me!"

"My apologies for upsetting you, I presumed—"

"Yeah, well, you presumed _wrong_!" He spat, back still facing the Vulcan, voice softening to a near whisper as he said, "This Jim has everything…everything I've always…"

There was sudden warmth at his back, hovering close enough to feel the heat but far away enough to avoid any unwanted physical contact.

"_T'hy'la_." Spock whispered, the low baritone was strangely soothing.

Jim whirled around to face him, the dark eyes softened slightly, face stoic as his hand reached up, brushing two fingers across Jim's cheek before retracting—a droplet clinging onto the pale flesh. Startled, Jim placed his fingers onto his cheek and found it damp—when had he cried?

Jim swallowed, a hard lump forming in his throat, panic flaring over him as the pale hand rose to hover inches over his face.

"I…desire to repair the damage of the forced meld you have endured. I request your consent."

Stunned briefly at the abrupt change of subject, he shook his head, taking a small step backward and bumping his back against the wall.

"I don't…"

"Please, Jim." He pleaded softly, closing the small gap in one small step.

"Okay." He barely whispered, tensing as the pads of warm fingers tentatively pressed against his face. A subtle buzz tingled along his skin at the contact, his heart accelerated from the touch.

"My mind to your mind."

"_My thoughts to your thoughts."_ The voice echoed in his skull before a presence plunged deep, only this time it was gentler.

There was sudden explosion of colors—a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts, memories. There were smells and sounds he couldn't comprehend. His own memories mingled in with the mixture—confusing and disorienting. Panic struck him as he felt the presence maneuvering through his mind, invisible fingertips brushing against sensitive areas.

"_Calm, T'hy'la, I do not intend to harm you."_

A calming sensation swept over the chaos, enveloping him in warmth, soothing him as the presence gently continued whatever the hell it was doing. For all Jim knew, Spock could be ripping his mind to shreds and with the Vulcan being so sly, he wouldn't put it passed him.

A wave of amusement—amusement?—flooded through the connection, swirling within the colors in his mind.

"_I have been referred to as such on several occasions by my James. The term appears to be a constant opinion; however, if I were intending to 'rip your mind to shreds' you would cease to exist as you are now at this moment."_

He had him there and he certainly didn't miss the "my James" reference. What did that mean?

As the Vulcan continued to dig around, he steadily felt better. The immense fear he harbored suddenly vanished, the invisible weight that had been crushing him lifted. A strange feeling overcame him. It felt almost as though he were…worth something. But how could he be? He was just a punk kid from Iowa. In the words of Frank, he was "no one".

"_You _are_ 'worth something', T'hy'la. You have endured misfortunes and tribulations that have hindered your ability to acknowledge your own aptitudes and strengths."_

_Stop speaking in my head and reading my thoughts…that's just creepy._

Another overwhelming wave of amusement crashed into him, warmth billowing and receding like a current.

"_I shall cease; however, I desire to enlighten you to your worth if you are amenable."_

_This…isn't going to be some weird sex thing is it?_

"_If you are incapable to bear witness to such events, then I shall endeavor to conceal those particular occurrences."_

_Now you're just making fun of me._

"_Vulcans do not 'make fun'."_

_Sure, whatever you say._

A laugh erupted through his mind, it was not completely physical yet he could decipher it as a laugh. Vulcans could laugh? He recalled the elder Spock admitting that he _could _feel—he just couldn't truly understand _how_. It was awkward.

_I said stop doing this mind thing, really, it's creeping me out._

"_Then I shall be brief."_

The whirls of colors suddenly receded, leaving him with an eerie empty space momentarily—about to inquire as to what the hell the Vulcan was doing when an image appeared.

Jim was on the bridge, but the layout was entirely different and standing before him were the Spock and Jim Kirk of this time period. The captain sidled up to Spock tentatively as he inquired about a machine called "M-5", asking if Spock had preferred it instead. Baffled and curious, Jim swiftly approached—which was strange since he wasn't physically moving—the pair who seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence.

The Vulcan turned to face the older Jim, a contemplative expression plastered upon his features. The captain appeared weary as Spock replied, "Computers make excellent and efficient servants, but I have no wish to serve under them."

The captain ticked his head slightly, eyebrows rising quizzically.

Spock continued, "Captain…the starship also runs on loyalty to one man." A small glint flickered within the dark depths of his eyes, a small twitch occurring at the corner of his mouth, "And nothing can replace it…or _him_."

Jim was then bombarded with an overwhelming sensation of admiration, devotion, respect, longing...

Love.

Without warning, the image faded. The presence from his mind hastily receded and he gasped as he was released, panting and listing heavily against the wall that was peculiarly cool against his head.

The Vulcan retracted his hand, regarding Jim with a tender gaze. Jim blinked rapidly as he contemplated on the memory, his mind still reeling—feeling perturbingly empty. Never before had he felt so lonely in his own mind.

"You…what…" He breathed as he regained his bearings. "What did you mean—?"

He was abruptly cut off as heated lips crashed into his. He had a quick thought of: _oh, that's what he meant_, before his thoughts went haywire. The kiss was heady, but gentle. A strong hand cupped his cheek while the other sought out his uninjured hand that hung loosely at his side, fingers curling around his own, eliciting a powerful tingle to shoot up his arm—replacing the throbbing pain from the punch it had endured prior.

Something stirred within him—a similar sensation that arose from the first kiss. It was a feeling of home, a comfort, a place of belonging. He had never felt more blissful or at ease in his life. So absorbed in the kiss, he barely registered his other arm snaked around the man's waist, pulling him flush against him, the casted hand resting awkwardly against the Vulcan's spine.

A rough tongue licked along his bottom lip, requesting passage and he permitted it, moaning as it slipped between his lips, exploring the crevice of his mouth. As Spock fed at his mouth, the warm fingers maneuvered away from his hand and came to rest at his waist, slipping underneath the hem of his shirt, caressing the exposed flesh beneath.

Then something clicked.

Jim jerked back, hitting the back of his skull against the wall with a thud, staring intensely into two dark eyes.

_This…this isn't right…there's something wrong…_

Jim swallowed thickly, "The…the _other _Jim…" He whispered hoarsely, still bemused by the fact he was willingly engaging in a tongue war with the very Vulcan he couldn't stand.

Spock leaned back slightly, placing a small amount of space between them.

"It is…complicated." He replied evenly, a hint of sadness beneath his tone.

Jim's arm slid from behind the Vulcan, attempting to separate them as much as possible, steeling himself as he fought against the betraying thoughts in his mind. Longing to reach out and touch the man before him. Where the hell was this coming from?

"You…you're _together_?" He proclaimed.

Spock released an audible breath.

"We are and we are not." The Vulcan accepted Jim's gesture and removed himself, taking a cautious step backwards, spine straightening as he steadily became resigned, "As I have stated, the matter is complicated."

Jim wasn't a complete idiot, he was able to piece two and two together. Apparently there was a huge characteristic that he shared with this Jim.

Fear of commitment.

"He's…cheating on you?" He inquired tentatively, still astounded that his older counterpart was in a romantic relationship with a Vulcan. And not just _any _Vulcan either…but _Spock_.

The Vulcan's head snapped up, pain fleeting across the stoic expression before receding as he averted his gaze.

_Shit._ Jim shook his head vigorously. _What the hell is going on?_

* * *

**A/N: Don't kill me for making TOS Jim to appear to be a big jerk (you'll learn all about this and there's a reason, I promise!). Anyhow, thanks for reading and please review!**


	10. Chapter Ten: The Fork in The Road

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: The Fork in The Road **

* * *

"Explain." Jim demanded as he pushed himself from the wall, advancing toward the Vulcan.

Spock doesn't budge, keeping his eyes averted, "I am uncertain you would comprehend the situation."

"Try me." He stated, folding his arms over his chest.

As the Vulcan turned away, Jim noticed the stiffness to his frame, head and shoulders slumping slightly. He strangely appeared…defeated.

"I believe the correct term is, 'friends with benefits'." Spock replied dolefully, "I assure you, it was not entirely a mutual agreement."

Jim scoffed, "On whose part?"

"Regrettably…mine."

Now Jim was confused.

"Are you saying that he didn't want more than just a fuck buddy and you only agreed because…" Jim trailed off, scrutinizing the broad back carefully. "Don't tell me that you...?" He breathed, incredulous.

"Yes." The Vulcan whipped around to face him, "James is—as you phrase—a 'free spirit'; however, he does not desire to leave my side."

Jim's eyebrows furrowed imperceptibly, scowling.

"I'm not following. Are you telling me that you want more from him but he doesn't want to commit, yet he doesn't want to lose you either? So you agreed to be lovers even though _you _don't agree with the casual occurrences?"

"That is correct." The Vulcan nodded solemnly.

Jim mulled over the situation in his head, reeling from the events that had transpired. When the hell did he get sucked into a soap opera?

"Okay…if you feel he's 'cheating', then why are you locking lips with _me_?" Jim felt the heat creep into his face, a fleeting memory of the previous incident flooding into his conscious.

The Vulcan ticked his head slightly, "You are still a form of him, and you are not tied to my counterpart."

Jim stilled, deciphering the heavy unspoken words.

_I desire you._

"What makes you think you can have me?" Jim spat, "I'm not_ him_, you know."

"I am aware." The Vulcan stated, eyes ghosting over his frame.

"Then why do you want _me_? Don't you love _him_?" He inquired exasperatedly, arms extending out with emphasis. "What would he think about this?"

"I do not know what his reaction may be; however, I am not hindered by a commitment, nor is he. As I have stated, I desire more than he is capable of."

"And you think I'm more capable?" Jim retorted incredulously.

The Vulcan remained silent, scanning his face carefully before taking a small step toward him.

"We have melded and with that occurrence I have found we are highly compatible. You feel…at ease with my physical advances, do you not?" Another step, "From what I have perceived, you feel 'at home'?"

Jim inhaled sharply, he could not refute that. Vulcans were touch telepaths; Spock wouldn't believe him even if he denied it.

"That doesn't mean I'd want to be with you." Jim diverted, taking a small step back. It wasn't a complete lie—he was still confused over the matter, not certain whether he hated the pointy-eared bastard or not. It was too much too soon. "And…I don't belong here. This isn't my time stream." He added hastily.

"Yes." The Vulcan replied, dark eyes bearing down upon him, a flicker of something Jim could only decipher as a raw primal possessiveness fleeting briefly within the black pupils. "You do not; however, we have yet to find a source to transport you to your designated point of origin. Perhaps…" He trailed off, taking another step, causing Jim to back against the wall for the second time, "You may find this space-time to be more…suitable?"

Jim swallowed thickly, "I don't think so." He whispered dubiously.

"You do not seem certain." The Vulcan murmured—eyes fixated on him.

Jim's heart raced; panic striking him as he was rendered paralyzed by the jumbled mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions overwhelming him.

"I…" The words died on his tongue as a pale hand reached out, heated pads of the Vulcan's fingers trailed lightly over his temple and down his cheek to his jaw—the comfortable buzz tickling along his flesh from the contact. It was pleasant—achingly so, and it took most of his willpower to jerk his head away. "Stop." He pleaded meekly, clenching his eyes shut, blocking out the face he strongly desired to touch, perturbing him immensely.

"I understand, you are…confused." It wasn't a question. "I will return to the bridge for my duties. It should allow you ample time to reflect on what we have conversed." There was a shifting of cloth and Jim steadily open his eyes to watch as the Vulcan turned for the door, pausing momentarily, addressing him with his back turned, "You may use anything you require throughout the duration of my absence." And on that note, he retreated from the room.

He stood stunned for a few moments, leaning against the wall for support. Exhaustion suddenly overcame him as he began to relax. Quickly deciding the bed was not exactly an option at the moment, he opted for the sofa placed in the corner. It wasn't meant for sleeping due to its size, but Jim maneuvered himself until he was comfortable, legs dangling over the arm rest.

His mind raced with the possibilities—the differences between this world and the one he was accustomed to.

_Should_ he stay?

What were the ramifications if he _did_?

What would happen with Nero?

How would this impact Pike, and Bones—Earth?

Had he always been _fated_ to come here?

Was this his true destiny?

Shaking his head to clear away the baffling thoughts, his heavy eyes slid closed, allowing his burdens and worries to drift away—if only for a while.

* * *

Something heavy suddenly draped over him and he stirred, groggily fighting to gain consciousness as he slowly became aware of the shadowed outline of a figure placing the remainder of the blanket over his exposed feet. The room was bathed in darkness and from what he could decipher with his sleep-addled brain, it was the Vulcan hovering over him.

Jim groaned softly, bringing his hand to his face to rub the clouded vision from his eyes.

"What time is it?" He inquired hoarsely.

"1800 hours." The baritone voice replied levelly. "Forgive me—I had not intended to wake you."

Jim released an elongated breath, covering his eyes with his arm as he steadily acknowledged the painful throbbing in his skull.

"My head hurts." He muttered, not completely certain as to the reason he needed to voice his discomfort.

"That is to be expected, there was a significant amount of damage to your psyche that I repaired. The pain should dissipate within a few hours." A pause, "I have noted you have not taken in nourishment since your release from Sickbay this morning. I advise partaking in a meal before returning to your previous reposed state."

Jim released a cynical laugh, "Is that your subtle way of asking me to dinner?"

"…Perhaps."

He scrubbed his face as he released a sigh, "You're not going to give up on this whole wanting me thing, are you?"

"If you do not desire it, I will cease."

"No." Jim inwardly flinched at his casual response.

"No?" The Vulcan reiterated, curious.

"Ugh, I don't know!" Jim bolted upright from the cushions, the dark figure beside the sofa shifted slightly to allow him to maneuver. "Shit, my head." He muttered, rubbing his temple, attempting to alleviate the pain.

"Lights to seventy percent."

Jim squinted, releasing a pained sound as the light flooded the quaint space. The Vulcan stood fluently, padding across the living quarters to his private replicator, placing a meal card into the slot.

"I haven't said yes, you know." Jim uttered, blinking through the brightness of the room—realizing he probably appeared pathetic while doing so.

"I am aware; however, regardless of your reply, the Doctor would not be pleased if I did not attend to your required needs."

Jim chuckled, "Threaten you with a hypo?"

"Not precisely."

Pushing the blanket from his form, he slid from the couch stiffly—stretching out his cramped muscles as he reluctantly joined the Vulcan at the desk. He watched as Spock pulled the plate from the replicator, placing it onto the sleek surface gingerly before placing another meal card into the slot.

Plopping down onto the chair, he stared in disbelief at the meal—picking at the sandwich hesitantly as though it were an illusion.

"Is the choice not adequate?" The Vulcan inquired—an eyebrow arching.

"How the hell did you know this was my favorite?" Jim murmured, analyzing the contents of the sandwich.

The eyebrow arched higher, "I surmised you shared similar acquired tastes.

"Oh." Jim replied dimly, "I see."

Silently he indulged in the meal, keeping his eyes averted as the Vulcan descended onto the chair on the opposite side. The tension was intangible as they proceeded to eat—feeling the weight of dark eyes upon him, observing his every move.

"Have you had ample time to reflect?" Spock said unexpectedly after a long interval of silence.

Jim choked on the mouthful of food, reaching for the glass of water the Vulcan had placed there for him moments ago, chugging it down as he coughed.

His voice strained as he replied, "_Dammit_, could you have at least _waited_ for me to finish before asking that?"

"My apologies." The eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, "May I inquire if you have attained a decision?"

"I haven't—no." He replied, flustered.

"I see." The Vulcan stated gently, "Is there anything you require that may aid you toward a conclusion?" Something flickered within the tender dark eyes and Jim was pretty certain what that had meant.

"Uh…" Jim flushed—why was he finding it difficult to keep his flagrant responses from Spock? How could a _Vulcan_ cause him to react this way? "No…I think I'm alright."

"Fascinating."

Jim glanced up to find him regarding him with an inquisitive stare.

"What?"

"You have claimed you have indulged in carnal activities, yet you are bashful when the subject is raised." Spock replied evenly, threading his elegant fingers together. "I recall you were quite prideful when you enlightened me to what I could only presume were numerous—as you phrase—one-night stands."

The heat in his cheeks intensified as he glanced away. Those instances had been completely different—he hadn't harbored any _underlining_ feelings for them. Plus, he had always been the pursuer—the one to seek out a potential companion, even if it were only for a night. He wasn't quite used to being chased, and he wasn't certain if he preferred it or not—especially coming from a Spock who wasn't the Spock he knew.

He slid his chair back, bolting up from the seat, seeking out an object to focus on as he sputtered, "I, uh…that…that was different."

There was a swish of cloth and his heart leapt into his throat as the Vulcan fluently rounded the table, stepping uncomfortably close. For a Vulcan, he was strangely comfortable being within a close proximity of him—possibly due to the fact he was consistently around his own James Kirk. Jim quickly surmised that had to be the reason.

"You were not satisfied?"

Jim swallowed thickly, folding his arms over his chest, attempting to ease his frantic heart.

"Oh I _was_…just, you know, I never really…connected." He cleared his throat, the heat in his face refusing to dissipate.

Were they really discussing this?

"Jim." The Vulcan purred in the shell of his ear unexpectedly, warm breath by his face, caressing his skin briefly before heated lips pressed lightly against the flesh of his neck, just below his jawline.

He inhaled sharply as a pleasurable sensation flooded through him—not receiving a moment to recover enough before the lips pressed against his flesh again, this time slightly lower.

A spontaneous moan escaped his lips, eyelids sliding shut at the sensation. His mind was nearly screaming for him to back away, that this had gone too far, but his body betrayed him. Cemented to the floor, his mind reeled—gasping slightly as a warm, rough tongue licked along the erogenous zones of his neck—a hand cupped his face, pushing him closer before gently turning his head to expose more of the long line of fragile flesh.

Jim's arms slid from his chest, falling limp beside him as he felt the delicious mouth work along his neck. It felt so right, so intoxicating that it elicited an enormous shiver to crawl along his frame. A low possessive growl emanated from the Vulcan's throat before teeth suddenly sank into the tender flesh—a flare of pure pleasure and pain spiked through him, forcing a lustful cry from his lips, his hand reflexively whipping up, grasping the strands of ebony hair tightly between his fingers.

Heated hands gripped his hips with enough force to bruise as he was suddenly lifted and thrown onto the sofa he had previously occupied. The surprised gasp was instantly silenced as the heated mouth compressed against his, feeling the weight of the Vulcan's body as he clambered on top of him, his erection brushing against his own. Jim vaguely noticed that he was twisted at an odd angle on the short piece of furniture, too captivated with the fiery mouth as it abandoned his lips to feed at the neglected side of his neck.

Moaning again as the Vulcan's hands slid up his torso, pushing the black shirt up along with them—a gratifying buzz tingled along his skin in their wake. His breathing was ragged, hardly able to open his eyes as he was consumed in the stimulating touches. Gripping a handful of the Vulcan's blue tunic, he attempted to pull it up to his shoulders only to stop short near his chest.

The sensual sensation ceased briefly as the Vulcan pulled back, permitting Jim to yank the shirt from him before stripping him of his own. The heated lips crashed into his again, a rough tongue slipping between his parted lips as their exposed flesh compressed together. The Vulcan grinded his hip, teasing their erections with friction—frustratingly divided by cloth. Jim ached for him, hands snaking around the pale torso, sliding down the flesh off his back toward his rear.

God, he never wanted somebody as much as he did now.

And as though the Vulcan had read his mind, he released another possessive growl, vibrating the muscles in his throat as he hungrily attacked his mouth—stealing the breath from him.

Hands were suddenly at the zipper of his pants, hastily working at them—sinking his nails into the naked flesh of the Vulcan, silently pleading for him to continue.

"Spock!"

Jim was jolted from his euphoric state as the voice reverberated through the room—Spock instantly stilling above him. The mouth broke away from his, as they both shifted their heads to locate the origin of the voice.

Jim tensed as he saw the older Jim—eyes widened marginally, hands clenched with rage. How long had he been standing there? Jim deduced he must have been there long enough to see a good amount of the show as his face began to flush a pale red.

"Jim." Spock said uncertainly toward the older man, muscles tensing under Jim's hands that were still resting on the flesh of his exposed backside.

_Oh…shit._

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading and please review!**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Dammit, Jims!

**A/N: Round one, ding-ding.**

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Dammit, Jims!**

* * *

Spock slid off of him and he quickly bolted upright from the couch, an ache already throbbing between his legs as his erection abated. Nothing quite killed the mood like having his older self catch him about to do the dirty deed with Spock—boy, did that sound crazy and awkward. If he ever made it back to his own time-frame, he was pretty certain he'd need some serious therapy or a few stiff drinks—preferably the latter.

Jim shifted uncomfortably as the two stared each other down, a silent dispute draping heavily in the space between them. Hell, for all he knew, they could be speaking telepathically and if they were, he was grateful he was unable to hear it. What the hell does one say in this situation?

"Uh…" Jim began, jerking slightly in alarm as the two of them whipped their heads to regard him, "Well…think you could have knocked?"

He inwardly flinched as the captain's face instantly distorted with rage.

_Smooth, Jim._

"Why, Spock?" The captain demanded, voice leveled with a dangerous monotone, "Why _him_?"

The Vulcan remained silent for several agonizing minutes, eyes darting between them—contemplative.

"Alright." Jim interjected, too flustered and uncomfortable to allow the awkward silence to continue, "Not that I give a shit, but why do you care? Isn't your relationship only casual?"

The older man unexpectedly pointed a stern finger—momentarily feeling like a scolded child as he declared, "That's none of your business."

"Uh, I think it _is_." Jim retorted, clenching his unhindered hand into a fist, "Especially when I'm _clearly_ involved." Taking a few daunting steps toward the captain; he continued bristling, "Besides, maybe if you'd quit fucking around and paid attention to his needs, Spock wouldn't be seducing _me _right now!"

Where the hell was this coming from? Since when did he want to _defend _the Vulcan?

The captain advanced on him, bridging the gap between them in a few long strides.

This room was starting to feel a bit too crowded.

Halting just a few inches shy of him, the man's amber eyes burned with a staggering intensity into his, "This is _my _reality, not _yours_." He whispered vehemently.

Anger flooded over him at the words—haunted by the previous conversation with the Vulcan, learning of the life this man lived and everything he was unfortunately deprived of. This man didn't appreciate what he had standing right in front of him, taking _this _Spock—who _loved_ him—for granted. The ugly beast of jealousy and contempt stirred inside his core, hand twitching as he suppressed the sudden urge to pummel him.

Gritting his teeth, he grounded out, "You're pathetic—you don't deserve him."

That did it.

Amber eyes went wild and he felt a crack as a fist collided with his jaw, stumbling slightly from the force. Stunned momentarily, he glanced up to find a mirrored harrowing expression on the older man's face, as though he had moved involuntarily. Maybe he had, but Jim wasn't about to lie there and endure a beating.

Adrenaline surged through him as he returned the blow, plunging his fist into the toned midsection of his—still stunned—older counterpart, pleased as he heard a pained "oomph" before taking a clumsy swing toward his face. The captain hastily blocked, countering with a swift kick to _his_ midsection, stealing the breath from him as he smashed against the wall—chest burning as he attempted to inhale.

Stealing the opportunity, the captain's fist collided with his face again, seeing stars—the familiar nauseating taste of copper filling his mouth as he sluggishly dodged another punch, hearing a pained cry as the man's knuckled smashed into the wall behind him. The man recoiled—grimacing, shaking his hand feverishly and Jim seized the moment, connecting his fist with his jaw, watching with gratification as he stumbled a few steps backward, hand reflexively wiping at his mouth, coming away with bright red blood.

The captain lunged for him and he tensed, steeling himself for the impact when the pads of heated fingers suddenly pressed against the crook of his neck—having only a brief moment to see the other pale hand latch onto the other man's neck as well before the world rushed upward, forcibly tugging him into darkness.

* * *

"Dammit, Jim, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't…I honestly don't know what came over me."

"It's called _jealousy_—something you're not quite accustomed to."

Releasing a dry, harsh laugh, he replied, "Well, I can definitely say, the kid can sure throw a punch."

"Did you expect anything less? He's almost an exact carbon copy of _you_."

Jim groaned, their voices grating against his ears as he steadily gained consciousness, rolling onto his side on the pallet—his arm trembled as he sluggishly pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Well, look who's finally awake." The southern drawl mocked, hearing soft footfalls as Bones padded over to the biobed.

Placing a hand to his throbbing head, he muttered irritably, "What the hell happened?"

Bones released an audible breath through his nose as he whipped out the tricorder, running it along Jim's frame, "Well, from what I've been told, you and 'Captain Jealous' over here had it out in the hobgoblin's quarters. He brought you both here unconscious and said he put a stop to it with that nerve pinch of his." Rolling his eyes exasperatedly, he continued, "Why you both decided to fight over a Vulcan is beyond me. What _is_ it about that green-blooded elf that causes the two of you to lose your _damn_ minds?"

Jim chuckled and was startled as a simultaneous chuckle emanated from his older counterpart.

That was eerie.

Peering around Bones, he spotted the captain perched on his own biobed—hunched slightly with a trail of dried blood crusting over his skin—leading from the corner of his mouth down to his chin.

The man issued a wry grin, "You all right?"

Jim shook his head incredulously, "Yeah, I've had worse."

"Right." The grin expanded.

Bones huffed, "Alright, since it appears you two _aren't_ going to kill each other, I'm going to check on my other patients. Also, I've taken the liberty of ridding you of that cast—lord only knows what kind of damage you can cause now." He stated, gesturing with a nod toward Jim's hand.

"Thanks." He issued a lopsided grin, eliciting another exasperated eye roll from Bones. "Think I could get a shirt?"

Grumbling under his breath, Bones grabbed the standard black shirt from the bedside table, tossing it unconcernedly at Jim.

"Alright, _kids_, play nice." He groused, pointing a stern finger between the two of them, pivoting on his heel and striding dutifully from the private room.

A heavy silence draped over the enclosed space, the tension intangible as Jim slipped the shirt over his head—nearly jumping when he noticed the captain was suddenly standing before him after pulling the fabric passed his face.

"Shit! What are you doing?" Jim said emphatically as his older counterpart peeled back the collar of Jim's shirt, fingertips tracing over a sensitive area—a forlorn expression washing over his features.

"He marked you."

Jim blinked, "What?" His hand reached up as the man's slipped away, pressing down onto his neck and cringing from the pain, "What do you mean?"

Shaking his head solemnly, he replied, "He's claimed you by biting your neck. I…didn't think he would…" Inhaling a shaky breath, he inquired, "Do you…want him?"

Baffled by the unexpected question, he sputtered, "W-what?"

The man heaved a heavy sigh, retreating back toward the biobed across from Jim's, perching himself upon it in a defeated slump.

"You were right—I don't deserve him."

Jim remained silent; he wasn't exactly skilled with relationships and lover's quarrels. If anything, he was usually the one seeking advice, not giving it.

The man released a short, cynical laugh, "I'm not sure why I'm not able to fully commit to him, but I don't want him to find someone else." Amber eyes glanced up, a glint of desperation stirring within their depths, "Have you had any difficulties committing?"

_Yes._

"Not really." He lied, issuing a non-committal shrug, "Just haven't found the right one for me yet."

The man nodded, averting his gaze, "I see."

Having a conversation with an older version of him about being with a Vulcan he hated but almost fucked wasn't awkward.

No…

Not.

At.

All.

He shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting with the creases in his shirt—smoothing them and then creasing it again, smoothing, creasing, _smoothing_, _creasing_.

"Would you ever want to be with _your _Spock?"

Jim stilled, mulling over the question carefully before clearing his throat, "I don't know." hastily adding, "But I know I don't belong with yours. He clearly loves you—not really fooling around with anyone else except another form of _you_, that's got to say something—right?" He hiked his eyebrows expectantly, "Don't you think it's time to stop being selfish?"

He suppressed the desire to shudder at his own words, knowing full well it was easier said than done.

The captain heaved another heavy sigh, "You're right. I don't know why I've been avoiding it for so long, but…" A flicker of a thought suddenly appeared in the honey eyes—clapping his hands together, he slid from the biobed, jerking his head towards the door, "Let's get out of here, I've never been one to hang out in Sickbay for too long and…I want you to _meet _someone."

Taken aback slightly at the abrupt subject change, he grinned wryly, "About time you suggested it, any ideas how to sneak passed the 'warden'?"

The older man winked, digging into the pocket of his trousers and producing his communicator—flipping it open, "Kirk to bridge."

A beat, _"Uhura here."_

"Uhura, could you please summon Doctor McCoy to the bridge to administer the yearly _Ankaran Flu_ vaccines—tell him it's a direct order from Mr. Spock."

A soft chuckle floated over the speaker, _"Making another daring Sickbay escape, Captain?"_

Exaggeratedly, he scoffed, "_Me_? Why, I would _never _do such a thing!"

Another amused chuckle, _"I'll make sure to inform him, sir."_

"Thank you, Kirk out." Flipping the device closed, he grinned, "Problem solved."

Jim released a sudden barking laugh that startled both the captain and himself, "I'm going to have to remember to do that someday!" Clapping a hand against the captain's arm, he stated, "You know, you aren't half bad."

The man nodded slowly, the grin never wavering, "I guess I could say the same."

After enduring several minutes of an extremely disgruntled Bones—grousing about pointed-eared demons that won't leave him alone and issuing the same 'hypo' threat to both Jims if they even _thought _about leaving—they stormed out of Sickbay, despite the doctor's threats. The captain led him through the nearly deserted corridors, barely running into the skeletal crew who worked the Beta shift as they maneuvered through the ship. Now that Jim wasn't on the verge of death or fleeing, he could appreciate the differences of the ship and the air of confidence his older counterpart had encompassing him.

It was strangely comforting.

They halted at one of the meeting rooms, the older man raising his hand toward him as he moved to enter.

"Wait here for one minute, alright?"

Bemused, he reluctantly agreed, "Alright?"

The captain issued a reassuring smile before striding through the doorway, the door hissing shut behind him—leaving him in the uncomfortable silence of the corridor. Sighing, he leaned heavily against the bulkhead, scanning the grey interior with keen interest, mulling over the possibilities of who his counterpart desired him to meet. And after a long interval of silence, he became wary—palms sweating with nervousness.

Surely, this couldn't be a trap.

_Calm down, Jim—stop being so paranoid. _

Another grueling few minutes passed before the door finally slid open, the older man peeking out his head to address him, "Well, come in."

Hesitantly, he pushed himself from the wall, giving an inquisitive glance toward his counterpart before brushing passed him into the room. A large _comm. _unit sat directly in the center of a giant meeting table, the walls lacking any intricate design. A word flashed on the monitor, rousing his curiosity to the point where he strolled over, plopping down onto one of the seats.

_Transmission Standing By…_

"I don't understand." Jim said tentatively as the older man seated himself in an adjacent chair.

Releasing an audible breath through his nostrils, he replied cryptically, "I think it'll be best to see it rather than have me explain it—besides, they're not quite fond of being kept on hold for too long."

Jim's eyebrows furrowed imperceptibly as the captain pressed the transmission pad beside him. The words died away as a face of a more matured man flickered into view, poised and quite distinguished in his old age—grey streaking through his golden hair, hazel eyes burning into him as they gazed with an intangible fire.

Clearing his throat, the captain stated firmly, "Jim, I would like you to meet George Kirk—our father."

* * *

**A/N: My apologies for the some-what short chapter! This chapter really gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, "beating yourself up" doesn't it? And I've been around men for far too long to know that one minute they could be brutal enemies and within a blink of an eye they can be best friends. I strangely admire that. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	12. Chapter Twelve: Seeing Is Believing

**A/N: So most of you might be like, so…is he going to stay with TOS Spock or not? Well, that's something I'd like to tease you all with for a while. For "Birdy Main", I did respond with the truth; however, sometimes 'half-truths' aren't lies. (*wink wink*)**

* * *

**Ghosts of Me**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Seeing Is Believing**

* * *

Jim sat dumbfounded, eyes ghosting over the face on the screen with incredulity.

"Now, I'm sure you're probably wondering why I called him, but…well, let's say a 'little birdy' might have told me what happened to the George Kirk of your time." The captain said gently, issuing a soft, tender expression that he couldn't quite comprehend.

Jim wanted to retort to that, knowing full well just _who _that "little birdy" could have been, but he was unable to get his mouth working—numb, and shocked. It was nearly equivalent to seeing a ghost—no, he _was _seeing a ghost. This man that he'd spent countless nights conjuring up an image for was now staring back at him—real, _alive_.

A warm hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder, jarring him from his reverie as it gave a reassuring squeeze, "I'll let you two get better acquainted."

He hardly registered the soft footfalls as the captain padded through the room, or the piercing hiss as the door opened and shut behind him—leaving him utterly alone with a man he had only envisioned in his dreams.

George cleared his throat, the fire in his hazel eyes abating, "It's nice to meet you, James."

A pressure compressed his chest at his name, swallowing thickly as he steadily regained his equilibrium—licking his lips, he replied with a wavering voice, "I-it's nice to meet you too…sir."

The man smiled warmly, "There's no need for formalities. You can call me George if you'd like—I won't be offended."

Jim's breath hitched in his throat, "Alright."

For years Jim had mulled over what he'd say if he ever had a chance to converse with the man—nearly having a list a mile long of different topics and confessions. Now that his seemingly unrealistic fantasy had slapped him dead in the face, he was left speechless—mind blank. Almost too stunned to form a coherent sentence—he permitted the man to lead the conversation.

"I've been informed of…many things. Some of which I nearly didn't believe until I saw you." Creases of skin encompassing the gentle eyes became more prominent as he issued another smile, "You really do look just like he did when he was your age."

Issuing a weak non-committal shrug, he replied flatly, "So I've been told."

"So you have." He acknowledged, cocking his head slightly, regarding Jim with a dejected gaze, "I know how difficult this must be for you, but James feels it would benefit you to speak with me." Coughing feebly, he inquired, "Is there…anything you'd like to ask or tell me?"

Jim inhaled a shaky breath, desperately fighting back the sudden tears stinging at his eyes. What _did_ he want to say?

"I…I…I _hate_ you for dying!" Out of all the things buzzing around in his skull, he did not expect that to slip from his lips, yet the words still spilled from him at a remarkable rate, "I _hate _you for putting the pressure of your legacy on me the day I was born! I _hate _the faraway look in my mother's eyes every time I see her, like she doesn't even see me at all! I _hate _the fact I never knew you. I _hate _that I'm compared to you constantly! I _hate_…." He trailed off, choking back a sob as he averted his gaze—body trembling violently.

There was a fleeting moment of silence before the man spoke again with a soothing voice, "I'm so sorry, James."

The words caused him to glance back, startled to find a glossy sheen had settled over the hazel eyes. The man regarded him with a sympathetic gaze—absent of pity or anger.

"What?" He whispered.

"I'm sorry you're in pain."

This threw him—completely baffled by the comment.

"I don't understand." Jim stated discombobulated, folding his arms over his chest.

Eyes glittering with unshed tears, the man stated gutturally, "It hurts me that you're hurting, and I'm the cause for it."

"What?" He said incredulously, "You're blaming _yourself_ for something _another_ George Kirk did?"

George inclined his head slightly, "Yes."

Jim snorted, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, "That's…I don't even know! Stupid—maybe? Ridiculous? Are you a fucking nutcase or something?"

A deep, barking laugh suddenly emanated from the monitor, "Maybe I am, but then again, who's the one speaking to a dead man?"

He couldn't fight the grin expanding on his face at the comment, "_Damn_…you have a point."

George chuckled softly, "It's good to know you have his spirit."

"You would know." Jim replied dubiously, "Seeing as I've barely met the guy."

"Of course."

Jim sobered, a hard lump lodging at the base of his throat, "Sir-uh-George…?" He hastily amended.

"Yes?" He inquired, eyebrows lifted expectantly.

"I'm…sorry for not accomplishing all that this James Kirk has."

"Mmm." The man responded, scrubbing his chin thoughtfully, "You should be." An unexplained pang of guilt flooded over him, blood draining hastily from his face. "You should be sorry for placing so much doubt upon yourself when you are just as capable as he is." Leaning toward the monitor, he continued, "I believe you can achieve anything you set your mind to."

Jim inhaled sharply, "You do?"

"Most definitely." The man issued another warm smile, "My James didn't mention how he struggled while adjusting to being Captain, did he?"

"No, he hasn't."

"Ah. Well, I'll have you know, he called me for the first month—nearly every day in tears once the _Enterprise _set off."

"Seriously?" He chuckled meekly.

"Oh, I'm quite serious. Kept apologizing that he wasn't as great a Captain as I, and I told him the same thing I told you, that he was capable of achieving greatness. Now look at him—one of Starfleet's prodigies _and _a most remarkable Captain." The older man straightened, an expression of pride sweeping over his features.

"What if I…_fail_ to become who he is? I'm not _him_, you know." Jim replied dimly, analyzing how the light faded quickly from his semblance.

"No, you are not." The man acknowledged, "And if you do not attain such goals, then you will find another path—this I am certain."

Jim snorted incredulously, "Yeah, right. How can you be so…?"

"Confident?"

"Yeah."

He regarded him with a thoughtful expression, "Because you are my son."

His chest suddenly constricted—mouth dry, mind reeling. It was all too surreal. He'd longed to hear the words that were now so casually spoken to him—the moment was like something out of a dream.

"Well, I must release you now, James—it is late and I'm quite old."

At a loss, he responded with a slow nod.

Issuing another warm, gentle smile, he stated softly, "I love you, son."

And with that, the transmission cut.

As the screen darkened, he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The man's final words reverberated through his mind at an incredible rate, smashing against the barriers he had steadily built over time. His vision abruptly blurred, the pressure in his chest increasing exponentially, breaths ragged as he feebly fought the conflicting emotions flooding through him.

A hissing pierced the air as soft footfalls of boots approached him, halting beside him—the man looming hesitantly over him. He immediately identified him by the comfortable heat radiating from his form, the hand resting tentatively on his shoulder.

"Jim?"

Suddenly, Jim was on his feet, snaking his arms around the Vulcan and burrowing his face into the fabric of his blue tunic. His hands desperately fisted into the back of his shirt as his control snapped, a wracking sob escaping him, forcing tears from his eyes. At the moment, he didn't care if it was Spock consoling him—grateful for the hand that made soothing circles along his spine, the feather-light kisses being placed against his hairline, the gentle baritone murmuring softly in an unfamiliar language. The Vulcan held him until his shuddering sobs abated, absent of tears, and all that remained were his labored, ragged breaths.

"Sorry." He stated in a small voice, relinquishing the cloth in his hands, pulling back from the embrace.

"I was not burdened."

Rubbing feverishly at his eyes, he gave a short, nearly hysterical laugh, "Why are you here?"

"I was informed you may have required my presence upon the conclusion of your conference." He stated evenly, arms shifting to his backside, clasping his hands at the small of his back.

"The Captain sent you?" He inquired incredulously.

"Indeed."

"Why would he do that?"

A dark eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch, "He believed I would have been more suitable to console you."

Well, he wasn't exactly wrong on that.

"Why? Do you do this often with him?"

A small twitch occurred at the side of the Vulcan's mouth, "Indeed. He is not exempt from succumbing to emotion on occasion."

Jim snorted, "You must think we're completely incompetent."

"You are Human." The Vulcan replied expeditiously, dark eyes softening, "You require certain outlets to sustain your faculties."

Jim couldn't fight his curiosity, "And what about you—what's your outlet?"

A small flicker occurred within the dark depths, "You."

_Right…_

The heat crept back into his face as he quickly averted his gaze, "Have you spoken with him about what happened?"

A moment of silence fleeted between them before he replied, "Briefly."

"And?" Jim pressed, shifting his weight absentmindedly from on foot to the other.

This was certainly awkward.

"He has expressed his sincerest apologies, and his desire to rectify our current predicament."

"Well, that's good isn't it? It sounds like he wants to be a bit more serious."

There was another short pause.

"Indeed."

Something in his hesitant tone caused Jim's heart to take a flying leap into his throat. A swish of cloth grated against his ears as the Vulcan bridged the tiny gap between them, pads of scorching hands peeled back the collar, tracing over the bite mark at his neck—a low purr emanating from his throat that elicited a chill to run along Jim's spine.

_Shit_.

This wasn't good.

"You do still want him…right?" His voice strained as the pads of the fingers maneuvered gently from the mark, gliding along the exposed line of skin at his neck.

"I am…uncertain."

_Shit! _

Not good at all.

He swallowed thickly, "I don't belong here." Instantly tensing as warm breaths suddenly caressed his face, he continued with a strained voice, "Besides, he said he wanted to fix things with you."

"It is possible the damage is beyond repair." The baritone voice murmured in the shell of his ear. "And I was offered a choice."

"What?" He whispered, heart pounding against his chest.

Scorching fingers grasped his chin gingerly, turning his face until he was met with two gentle eyes.

"He has stated the choice is mine to determine."

"Well…what about _my_ choice?" Jim bumbled, the heat in his face intensifying with the close proximity of the Vulcan's, his breath warming his skin.

That apparently was the wrong thing to say as he quickly acknowledged the Vulcan had accepted it as a challenge. He vaguely recalled from his xenobiology class that Vulcans were quite resigned by nature, but did possess a certain drive that was quite primitive—especially when mates were involved.

And even though he had told the truth to his older counterpart of not belonging to this time stream's Spock, there was still a miniscule degree of doubt stirring inside him, whispering: _What if?_

"James." The tone sent another chill rocketing down his spine. "If you do not desire me, I will cease my efforts."

Great, back to square one—where Jim was frazzled, not certain where exactly he stood on the whole issue.

Especially since his counterpart had given the green light to proceed.

Then it hit him, he was just as much a predatory creature as the Vulcan—only bemused by permitting himself to play as prey. His ambivalent thoughts had to be alleviated on his own terms—draw his own conclusions without being swayed.

"Don't move." Jim demanded—batting away the hand at his face, keeping his eyes locked with Spock's.

A low growl emanated from the Vulcan's throat, an undecipherable thought flashed within the dark depths. Jim wasn't quite certain how to take that, but he wasn't about to be deterred. Hesitating briefly, he steadily moved forward, pausing a few centimeters from his lips, allowing the anticipation to rise. Grinning as Spock's even breaths hitched slightly, emitting another growl.

Maybe…

Maybe he _did _like him.

_Shit._

Suddenly, he slated their lips together with remarkable force, the heat of the kiss tingling on his lips as the Vulcan returned it with as much intensity. He was suddenly drowning in it, hands threading through the ebony strands of his hair, anchoring him in place. The Vulcan appeared to comprehend Jim's desire for control, allowing him dominance which fueled the fire. Jim quickly became more confident, licking a tongue across the bottom lip of the Vulcan, releasing a soft moan as he complied—diving into the crevice of his mouth to explore.

His mind was buzzing—alive—blood rushing south as he shoved the Vulcan back against the wall—nearly surprised when he allowed it. The fact that he was completing submitting was exhilarating, enticing him to slid his hands beneath the hem of the tunic, fingers gliding up the toned stomach, memorizing his curves and the feel of course hair beneath the pads.

There was a sudden flash, a vision of the two of them tangled in sheets—wrapped completely around one another, indulging in the sweet bliss of each other's bodies. The knowledge that this could be his fate, to have the unconditional love and safety he had always craved.

When the _hell _did he fall for the Vulcan?

Strong arms snaked around his waist, pressing him flush against the heat of his body, suddenly taking the reins. It was so heated, passionate that he craved more, didn't want it to stop—

The ship suddenly lurched, jolting them from the moment, falling backward toward the table. The strong arms gripped him tightly, quickly catching him a mere inch from the table's ledge. A chirping erupted through the groan of the ship and the Vulcan quickly fumbled for his communicator.

"Spock here."

"_Mr. Spock, the Captain desires both you and our guest's presence on the bridge immediately." _

The Vulcan exchanged a quizzical glance with him before replying, "We shall arrive momentarily."

Relinquishing Jim, he pivoted on his heel, striding dutifully from the room and Jim staggered as he hastily ensued. Alarms were blazing as they entered into the corridor, crewmen scurrying about as they maneuvered their way to the lift which rattled when they entered as the ship lurched again.

"Are we under attack?" Jim inquired breathlessly, gripping onto the side panels protruding from the wall.

"I am uncertain." The Vulcan replied expeditiously, head jerking slightly as the doors hissed open a few moments later to reveal the bridge.

They filed onto the bridge and immediately beheld a dark swirling vortex on the view screen—two open portals meters apart as a giant vessel with protruding tentacles emerged from one and steadily began to disappear into the other. Jim's eyes widened as he absorbed the scene. The black hole had acted as a type of catalyst for space-time, recalling the time intervals between the Romulan ship and elder Spock's arrival in his reality being vastly different. It was never quite certain if they had passed through other dimensions, seeing as he only received the memory of Spock's journey through it—and with the given evidence before him, it appeared at least one of them had.

As Jim watched the ship merge through the other portal, he quickly comprehended their final destination was the reality he knew.

And this was his ticket home.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading and please review!**


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